Darkness Before Dawn
by TT-5
Summary: A veteran of the First World War and a policemen for many years DCS Christopher Foyle has faced many battles. Squadron Leader Andrew Foyle's days are currently full of dogfights against the Luftwaffe. Neither are new to battle but this is a different kind of fight and the darkest hour is always just before the dawn.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to _dancesabove_ and _AnneBronteRocks_ for encouraging me to post this story. I own nothing except my imagination and all mistakes are my own. I hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think :)

January 1941

The rain was hammering against the window and although he couldn't see the street because of the blackout curtains Christopher Foyle knew it was a wretched night out there and was very glad to be comfortably ensconced in front of a warm fire with a good book and a crystal tumbler of scotch.

He took a sip of scotch and sighed contentedly, it would have been almost perfect if Andrew were home. His son was actively serving in the RAF and despite being stationed on the coast he was rarely home anymore. Foyle hoped he wasn't expected to fly in this muck, the thought made him shiver and he closed his eyes offering a small prayer for Andrew's safety.

It was about 20 minutes later when Foyle heard something that sounded very much like a knock at the door. He rose to answer it wondering _'who on earth would be calling on a night like this?' _After a quick glance down to make sure he was presentable he opened the door and was shocked to find Andrew standing on the doorstep. "Andrew?"

Andrew looked up at him and smiled "hullo Dad."

"What on earth are you doing here?"

"Dripping."

"Well come in then" Foyle stepped aside to let Andrew in, still trying to absorb the fact that his son was home.

Andrew stood in the hall looking rather confused and very wet. Foyle studied him carefully, "Andrew its wonderful to see you but shouldn't you be on base?"

Andrew shook his head, "no Wing Co gave me a pass, said I needed to get off base for a night." He had made no effort to remove his sopping leather flight jacket and was slurring his speech slightly.

Foyle frowned, "Andrew are you drunk?"

"Not enough."

Foyle sighed but didn't say anything as he watched Andrew shiver miserably. Something about the whole situation felt wrong to him but he knew he wouldn't get a coherent answer out of Andrew at the moment. "Right well come on let's get you into something dry" and with that he helped Andrew out of his drenched jacket and boots before herding him upstairs to the lavatory. "Stay here while I find you something to wear alright?" Andrew nodded and sat obediently on the closed toilet lid.

It didn't take Foyle long to collect Andrew's pajamas, dressing gown, slippers and several towels and 5 minutes later he was stacking them all on the lavatory counter. "Right are you up to getting yourself changed?"

Andrew nodded a little sheepishly, "yes Dad."

"Good, I'll put some tea on. Do you want to come down or are you going to be heading to bed?"

Andrew frowned, "I suppose I should head to bed, need to be up early to get back to base."

Foyle nodded, "I'll bring the tea up then."

"Thanks Dad" Andrew hesitated for a minute, as if he were about to say something, before offering a small smile and reaching for a towel.

Foyle stood in the hall for a minute, his hands deep in his trouser pockets, chewing thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek. _'There's more to Andrew turning up like this then a one night pass; I'm sure of it. The challenge will be getting him to tell me what that is_.' He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before heading downstairs to make tea.

He put the kettle on and banked the fire than returned to the kitchen to prepare a tray with two mugs and a few biscuits. He thought for a minute and then filled a pitcher and a glass with water and placed those on the tray as well. A hung over Andrew was less then pleasant and he didn't like the idea of Andrew trying to fly in that condition. Hopefully if he got some water into him now he wouldn't feel as rough in the morning. The kettle boiled and Foyle busied himself making tea.

When Foyle entered Andrew's room a short while later he was pleased to see that Andrew appeared to have sobered up a little in the process of getting changed, at least he was pacing the room without stumbling. Andrew looked up as his father came in and offered him a small smile, "thanks Dad, I'm sorry to turn up like this."

Foyle shook his head, "It's always good to see you Andrew." He handed Andrew the glass of water, "drink that and then you can have your tea."

"Yes Dad."

Foyle poured the tea while Andrew finished his water and then handed a mug to his son before taking his own, "so do you want to tell me why you came home soaking wet?"

Andrew ducked his head and took a sip of tea, "well, like I said I was given an evening pass so I went to the pub on my bike. Once I was ready to leave I realized I'd had more then I should have and couldn't ride back to base so I settled my tab and walked here."

"Why didn't you call cab instead of walking through the storm?"

Andrew shrugged, "I don't know, wasn't thinking I guess. It's annoying really, now I'll have to swing by the pub to get my bike in the morning so I can get back to base."

"If you like Sam and I could give you a lift to where you left your bike."

"Really? That would be great, thanks Dad."

Foyle nodded and for the next few minutes they drank their tea in silence. "So why did you get an evening pass?"

The question was casual enough but Foyle saw Andrew's shoulder's tighten, "its been a busy few weeks I guess Wing Co thought I could do with a bit of break. I wasn't about to say no."

Although Foyle had no doubt that it had been a busy few weeks he couldn't shake the feeling that there was a lot more to the story, "but why on a Wednesday? Why not wait till the weekend?"

Andrew sighed running a hand through his hair, "we're on standby Dad and I'm squadron leader, I can't take a weekend off."

Foyle's jaw clenched but all he said was "I see." He looked at his son carefully noting the dark circles under his eyes with concern. _'Just how long has it been since Andrew slept properly?_ _'A busying few weeks' and he can't be spared for as little as two days? It has to have been weeks_!' He felt his gut clench with concern at the thought. "Good that you could get a night off then."

"I suppose" there was a note of bitterness to Andrew's voice that surprised him.

He waited, chewing on his cheek, but Andrew didn't explain. "Andrew did something happen? I mean is there a reason that Turner gave you tonight off?"

Andrew looked up at him in surprise, before his lips twisted into a wry smile, "always the detective aren't you Dad?" He ran a hand over his face with a sigh, "we had a bloody awful op today. Turner gave quite a few of us passes, wanted to take our minds off it I suppose, not that it worked."

"What happened?"

Andrew flinched at the question and when he looked up Foyle felt his breath catch in his chest at the pain in his son's eyes. "I know we can't all make it back every time Dad, I might have thought we could at first but after Rex" he trailed off for a minute and then pushed on "but when we lose someone we didn't need to it makes me so angry! He should have bailed out. I kept telling him to bail out but he wouldn't, thought he could pull it out. His spit was on fire for Christ sake! Hits to the tail and the fuel tank, no one could have pulled out of that, not Billy Bishop and certainly not a kid with little more then 20 hours in Spits! I told him to bail out Dad, I ordered him to and he wouldn't."

Andrew's voice broke and when he looked up there were tears shining in his eyes, "how can I write to his parents and tell them that his death wasn't in vain when I know very well that it was. If he'd come out on his chute, he might have broken a leg or something but he would still be alive. What do I have to say to the men to make sure this doesn't happen again? I've been trying to figure it out all night and I can't."

Foyle closed his eyes, '_there are few things worse then avoidable death and this young man's death was clearly a needless one_.' He glanced at Andrew and felt his heart ache at the sight. His son sat bowed and aged by grief and guilt and Foyle had no way of making it better. "I'm sorry."

His voice was very soft but Andrew heard him and looked up, "so I am Dad. I kept on wishing I could forget, that if I had another drink I could erase the vision of Phil's plane spiraling down but I couldn't, it didn't help, nothing seems to."

Foyle frowned, '_I wish I could have saved Andrew from this burden, that those 3 years in France would have actually protected him from the brutality of war_.' He saw that Andrew had finished his tea and crossed to take the mug from him, "I'd best let you get to sleep," he paused and rested a hand on his son's shoulder, "I'm glad your home Andrew, even if its only for one night."

Andrew smiled up at him, "It's good to be home Dad."

Foyle placed the pitcher of water and a full glass by Andrew's bed and then picked up the tray, "sleep well Andrew."

"Thanks Dad and you."

Once he had washed the tea things Foyle sat in front of the fire for another hour, thinking over what Andrew had said and the utter madness of war before wearily climbing the stairs.

He poked his head into Andrew's room and was pleased to see that he appeared to be sleeping peacefully. Even with the tragic circumstances of Andrew's visit Foyle was glad to have him home and smiled softly to himself as he quietly closed Andrew's door and crossed the landing to his own room. '_Whatever tomorrow might bring, my boy is safe tonight._'


	2. Chapter 2

According to the clock by his bed it was a little after 4am when Christopher Foyle awoke, he lay there for a few minutes trying to determine what had woken him so early. Then he heard a whimpering sound. He sat up puzzled, "bail out!" The voice was Andrew's and before he could fully process what he was doing Foyle was out of bed and shrugging on his dressing gown as he made his way toward his son's room.

He opened the door and crossed to the bed where Andrew was twisting around. His cries were mostly mumbles but every few words would be clear "that's an order . . bail out" It was obvious what his son was dreaming about and Foyle quickly leaned down and shook Andrew by the shoulder.

"Andrew! Wake up!" His son's eyes flew open and darted quickly around the room before settling on Foyle.

"Dad?" Andrew blinked and then ran a hand over his face surprised at the tears he found there.

"Yes Andrew I'm here."

"But why are you on base?"

"I'm not, you're home Andrew, you came home last night."

"I did?"

Foyle frowned at the glassy look in his son's eyes and reached out a hand to feel his forehead, as he'd feared it was hot to the touch. "Yes Andrew you did. " Foyle turned the bedside lamp on and took a seat on the edge of the bed "you seem to be running a bit of a fever, how about we get you into some clean pajamas?"

Andrew nodded, still looking a bit dazed, "alright."

It took about 10 minutes and a lot of prompting to get Andrew changed as he was confused and weakened by the fever. Once Foyle finally had him settled back into bed he brought a hand up to check the fever again and frowned, it was high, too high. Trying to keep the worry he felt out of his voice he ran a gentle hand through Andrew's hair and spoke softly "just rest Andrew I'm going to get a cold compress alright?"

"Sure Dad" Andrew's words were a little slurred and his eyes were already closed as Foyle rose carefully from the edge of the bed.

The next few hours passed in a blur of trying to keep a cold compress on Andrew's forehead and soothing him from his frequent nightmares. By 7:30am Foyle was exhausted but Andrew was finally resting peacefully. Foyle groaned and sank into the chair by Andrew's bed burying his face in his hands.

After a few minutes he raised his head and looked at the clock again, '_7:35am that's not too early to call the doctor. I'll need to call the station and Andrew's commander as well, neither of us will be in today.' _He rose with a sigh and bent to straighten Andrew's blankets before brushing the hair back from his warm brow. "Just rest son, I'll be back soon."

He stepped out into the hall and after a moments contemplation headed directly for the stairs, he could dress once the doctor was on his way. Picking up the telephone he quickly dialed Dr. White's number, relieved when the other mans strong voice came over the line a few minutes later, "Dr. White here go ahead."

"Dr. White its Christopher Foyle."

"Ah Christopher what can I do for you?"

"Well I was hoping you could drop by to see Andrew. He turned up last night, walked through that storm and woke up with a fever."

White sighed, "that boy, of course I'll come by Christopher, will 8am be alright?"

"Yes that's fine, thank you Peter, I really appreciate this."

"Not at all, it's my job you know that. I'll see in you in 20 minutes."

"Yes see you then."

Foyle hung up the phone with a sigh of relief; '_I knew White would come as soon as he was able but as one of the few doctors left in Hastings it can be hard to catch him at his office_.'

He listened carefully for a minute but hearing nothing that suggested Andrew had woken up he picked up the phone again and dialed Reid's number.

"Reid here."

"Hugh its Christopher."

"Oh good morning Christopher, what can I do for you on this fine morning?"

"Tell Sam she doesn't need to pick me up and tell Milner he's on his own for the day."

There was a startled pause and when Reid's voice came back across the line it had lost the cheeriness of a minute before, "Christopher what's happened?"

Foyle sighed, "its Andrew he's…" he broke off suddenly as the sound of coughing rang from the floor above, "listen Hugh I need to go, just tell Sam she's not to come alright?"

"Of course but Christopher what's happened? Is Andrew alright?" Reid's voice was full of concern but his questions were left unanswered as Foyle hastily hung up and hurried up the stairs.

Reid listened to the dial tone for a minute in shock before hanging up the phone and rising from his desk, '_hang it all! Sam might not being going to Christopher's house but I certainly am!_ He shivered slightly at the thought that something had happened to Andrew, "_its Andrew" could mean so many things these days_.' He reached for his coat and headed out into the hall, he needed to speak to Sam, Milner and the duty sergeant.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I imagine Rosalind dying of some type of cancer when Andrew was 13 years old. They never really explain what happens in the show so that is the back-story I've come up with.

Foyle hurried up the stairs and into Andrew's room and found his son struggling to sit up, coughing harshly. He crossed to the bed and placed a strong arm behind Andrew's shoulders carefully pulling him up into a sitting position before sitting down beside him. His hand never left Andrew's back as he rubbed comforting circles, "it's alright I've got you…that's it."

It felt like an eternity for both Foyle's but in reality it was less then 5 minutes before the couching spell ended and Andrew leant back wearily against his father. Foyle brought his other hand up to check Andrew's fever and frowned, '_it was still high, possibly higher then before, of course that could also be a result of the coughing fit. I'm still glad that Dr. White will be here in, _he craned his neck to look at the clock, _less then 15 minutes_.'

Foyle looked down at his son and the sight did little to ease his nerves. Andrew was pale except for two bright fever spots on his cheeks and his hair and face were coated with sweat. He instinctively brushed the hair back from Andrew's forehead, lips quirking slightly as Andrew leaned into his touch.

"I think we'd better get you cleaned up, Dr. White will be here soon to have a look at you" he spoke softly, not wanting to startle Andrew and felt his son nod against his shoulder. Keeping one arm behind Andrew he reached back to stack the pillows against the headboard and then carefully settled Andrew against them.

"Are you alright to sit by yourself for a minute?"

Andrew nodded, "yes Dad" his voice was a little rough from coughing but otherwise he sounded all right.

Foyle squeezed Andrew's shoulder as he rose, "good, I won't be long." Andrew nodded and leant back against the pillows closing his eyes.

In a few minutes Foyle returned with a basin of warm water and a fresh flannel and set about carefully washing the sweat away speaking quietly as he did so.

He had just settled Andrew back in bed in fresh pajamas when he heard a knock on the door, '_that must be White now._'

He looked down at his dressing gown and then back at Andrew and decided that he would rather open the door dressed as he was then make Andrew wait any longer to see the doctor. "Andrew that must be Dr. White, I'll just go and let him in alright?"

Andrew nodded but stayed silent clearly exhausted from the exertion of getting changed.

Dr. White stood patiently on the top step, his mind going back over all of the other times he had stood right here.

'_Andrew had been a rough and tumble lad, an aptitude for sports and a quick temper only adding to the number of bumps, bruises and broken limbs he had collected before going off to Oxford. And then of course there was Rosalind Foyle; a dear sweet woman taken long before her time and leaving behind a young son and husband who had mourned her passing desperately.'_

'_If I'm not mistaken Christopher is still mourning her. Andrew on the other hand, thanks in large part to his father, is a well-adjusted young man who seems to have come to terms with his grief.' _

White sighed and allowed his mind to wander back to those dark days 9 years earlier.

'_In the months that proceeded Rosalind's passing he had spent a lot of time with the Foyles watching as the small family attempted to come to terms with the fate that had befallen them. Even after her death he had dropped by from time to time to see how they were getting on. Christopher had been so crushed by her death that without the Reid's White felt sure he would have starved in those first few weeks.' _

'_Andrew had been sent away to stay with his aunt and uncle after the funeral to give Christopher some time to try and come to terms with his grief. It had done them both good. Andrew removed from his friends and the misguided notion that he needed to be strong was able to cry out much of his grief in his aunts loving arms. He had returned still grieving but, thanks to the resilience of youth, able to smile again.' _

'_Christopher had gone silent at first, seeming to withdraw into himself almost completely. It was a week after Andrew had left that the rage that White had been expecting finally made its appearance.' _

'_He had stopped by to check on Christopher and found him attempting to tear the living room apart and being held partially in check by Hugh Reid. By silent agreement the two men had allowed the anger to run its course, only intervening if Christopher was about to break something of importance.'_

'_After raging for almost 30 minutes Foyle had collapsed on to the settee clutching a picture of Rosalind and sobbing desperately. He had eventually cried himself to sleep while Reid and White tided the living room.' _

'_That day had marked a turning point. Although clearly still grieving deeply Foyle had begun to resemble himself a little more, he drank less and with Reid's help started to go through and pack up some of Rosalind's things. By the time Andrew returned Foyle was back in control and had thrown himself completely into his work and the task of raising their son alone.' _

White shook his head took a deep breath and focused back on the present.

'_I think everyone would agree he's done a very good job with Andrew; he's a fine young man. I pray with all my heart he makes it through this bloody war not only for himself but also for his father. I did not think Christopher would survive losing his son, at the very least the Christopher Foyle that I have come to know and respect would be lost.'_

White's musings were interrupted as the door opened and he came face to face with Christopher Foyle. He started at the sight of Foyle in his dressing gown and felt his concern about Andrew increase ten-fold. '_Christopher was a very old fashioned man and it was completely out of character from him to answer the door attired as he was_.' He stepped into the house as Foyle stood aside to let him pass, "Christopher, how is he?"

Foyle sighed as he took the doctor's coat and hat, "he's still got a high fever and he started coughing shortly after I spoke with you."

White frowned as he followed Foyle up the stairs, "has he complained of any other aches or pains?"

Foyle shook his head, "no although he hasn't been awake that long. He had a nightmare around 4am and that's when I realized he was feverish and he's slept fitfully since then."

They had reached Andrew's room at this point and Foyle led the way in, crossing immediately to the bed where Andrew lay dozing against his pillows. He ran a gentle hand through his son's hair, "Andrew Dr. White's here to have a look at you"

"Dad?"

"I'm here Andrew, can you open your eyes for me?"

Andrew obeyed and blinked blearily up at his father, "On base?"

Foyle closed his eyes for a second before answering softly, "no Andrew you're home."

"Oh, good" Andrews words were indistinct and he seemed on the verge of falling asleep again.

"Andrew I understand you're tired but I need to have a look at you alright?" White spoke quietly but firmly and was pleased to see Andrew's eyes open again in response.

"Dr. White?"

"That's right son, now I need to check you over so we can get you back on your feet again."

"Alright."

White nodded, "good. Christopher why don't you take a minute to get cleaned up? Andrew and I will be fine and I'll call if I need you."

Foyle hesitated, '_I know I need to dress but I don't want to leave Andrew'_ he chewed his lip for a minute before asking, "is that alright with you Andrew?"

"Course" Foyle and White both smiled at this, pleased that Andrew still felt so comfortable with doctor.

"Right well, I'll leave you to it then." Foyle crossed to the door pausing briefly on the threshold to look back at the bed.

White smiled at him, "we'll be fine Christopher."

Foyle nodded and quietly left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Foyle shaved and dressed quickly listening all the while for any indication that he was needed in Andrew's room but none came and he was just coming back out into the hall when White stepped out of Andrew's room. Foyle raised an eyebrow in silent question and White nodded toward the stairs. Slightly confused Foyle led the way into the lounge and then turned to face the doctor, "how is he?"

White looked up and sighed, "I don't want to alarm you Christopher but I don't like the sound of his chest, if we aren't careful this could very well turn into pneumonia. I don't want to worry Andrew that's why I wanted to tell you down here."

Foyle nodded distractedly as he worried his check, "are you sure? I mean is one soaking like last night really enough to lead to that?"

"Normally no, but coupled with his exhaustion and stress it could very well have been the tipping point. Besides Andrew has always been prone to respiratory infections."

Foyle nodded again, "what do we do?"

"Well the first thing we need to do is get that fever to break, so a cold compress and keep trying to get him to drink, other then that sleep is the best thing for him. You mentioned that he hasn't been sleeping well?"

Foyle nodded, "nightmares and I imagine the fever isn't helping with those."

White nodded, "no it wouldn't. Keep doing what you have been and call me if you have any concerns. I'll drop by this evening if I don't hear from you sooner." White looked up and forced a smile, "try not to fret too much Christopher, he's a strong lad and given that we caught this so soon we have a good chance of heading it off before it develops into anything worse."

Foyle nodded but a knock at the door interrupted him before he could reply. '_Who could that be? It had better not be Sam, I like the girl but her particular brand of helpful energy was not something I'm in the mood for at the moment.'_ With a sigh he opened the door and found a worried Hugh Reid standing on his doorstep.

"Christopher are you alright? What's happened?"

"Hugh what are you doing here?"

Reid sighed, "you didn't really think I was going to stay at the station after that telephone call did you? Honestly Christopher you've scared a good 5 years off my life, now may I come in?"

Foyle looked confused but stood aside to let Reid pass, "of course, I'm sorry Hugh but I don't recall saying anything that would have caused you to worry."

"Oh so telling me you can't come in because of Andrew but then hanging up before you tell me what's the matter isn't supposed to make me worry? Now seriously Christopher how is he? I saw White's car outside."

Dr. White had been listening to this exchange and now stepped out of the lounge, "ah Superintendent Reid, its good to see you again. I trust the girls are well?"

"They are Sir thank you. I'm sorry but will one of you please tell me what's going on?"

The brief conversation between White and Reid had given Foyle time to think and he now remembered hanging up on Reid earlier in his hurry to get back upstairs to Andrew.

He cleared his throat, "I'm sorry Hugh and I'm very sorry for hanging up on you earlier, terribly rude of me. Andrew showed up last night on a pass after walking through that storm and woke up this morning with a fever and a cough. He started coughing while I was on the phone with you and that's why I hung up."

Reid nodded, his brow furrowed with concern, "how is he now?"

"Much the same and Dr. White is concerned that it might develop into pneumonia, so I can safely say I won't be in for the rest of the week."

Reid cursed quietly under his breath, "no of course not, don't even think of that. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Foyle was about to say 'no' when White interjected, "I think some breakfast wouldn't go amiss." He held up a hand to forestall Foyle's interruption, "I can stay another 30 minutes or so and I want you sit down and eat a proper breakfast Christopher. Starving yourself won't help Andrew and I suspect you've got a long few days ahead of you, best take your breaks while you can."

Foyle opened his mouth to protest but Reid had removed his hat and coat while White was talking and now had a firm grip on his arm, "You heard him man, don't argue with the doctor. Now do you want to cook or pull up the blackout curtains?" And before he could speak Foyle was being propelled down the hall to the kitchen.

He was halfway through scrambling eggs when he remembered that he had yet to call Andrew's commanding officer. He stuck his head out of the kitchen, "Hugh would you mind finishing this for me? I've just remembered that I need to phone Andrew's commander. I don't want him charged with desertion for being ill."

Reid nodded and quickly took over in front of the stove, "right, have you turned the toast?"

Foyle looked up from wiping his hands on the dishtowel and shook his head, "no not yet."

"Alright I've got this under control, now go and call the commander before your tea gets cold."

Foyle nodded and stepped out into the hall, listening carefully for any sounds from Andrew's room. It was silent so he picked up the phone and asked the operator to connect him to Commander Turner.

5 minutes later the commander's crisp voice came across the line, "Turner here."

"Commander Turner this is DCS Foyle, I'm sorry to disturb you."

"Not at all Sir. I'm afraid Andrew isn't here at the moment, is there a message you would like me to pass on?"

"Err no, I'm actually calling about Andrew. I understand he was given an evening pass last night?"

"Yes that is correct, I'm actually expecting him back very soon. He's cutting it rather close I'm afraid."

"Well I'm afraid he won't be in today or for the rest of the week. You see Andrew got caught in that storm last night and woke up with a fever and a cough. I'm sorry for not informing you sooner but I wanted to wait until the doctor had seen him."

"Will he be alright?" Turner's voice clearly communicated his concern.

"I sincerely hope so Sir. As I'm sure you understand it will be best for Andrew to recover at home. I will be in touch to let you know when the doctor says he is ready to return."

"Of course Mr. Foyle and please keep me informed of his condition, I know all of his squadron mates will be as concerned as I am. Tell him not to worry about flying for the time being and just to focus on getting better."

"I will Sir thank you."

"Thank you for informing me Detective Chief Superintendent and do take care."

"And you Commander."

Foyle hung up the phone with a sigh of relief, '_I knew from what Andrew said that Commander Turner was a reasonable man but it is comforting to know that he seems to care about Andrew as much as a person as a pilot. Not always a guarantee as Andrew's first posting proved.'_

Reid stuck his head out of the kitchen, "breakfast's ready and you'd better come and eat it before I do."

Foyle turned toward the kitchen with a slight smile, "Elaine forget to feed you this morning Hugh?"

"Of course not, but when have I ever turned down a free meal? Speaking of which are you going to want all that toast?"


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: The Hobbit was written by J.R.R Tolkien. Foyle's War and its characters are the rightful property of their creators and the actors who so brilliantly portray them. I own nothing but my imagination.

They were in the middle of washing up when Andrew started to cough, they both froze staring up at the ceiling. They could hear White's voice but the fit showed no sign of letting up. Reid turned to Foyle, "go on up Christopher I'll finish this."

Foyle nodded his thanks and hastily dried his hands on the dishtowel before hurrying toward the stairs. When he entered Andrew's room he found Andrew leaning forward coughing and White standing by the head of the bed rubbing circles on his back.

Foyle crossed to the bed and sat beside Andrew his hand replacing White's as he tried to calm his boy. "Take a breath Andrew it's alright…shh…that's it" slowly the fit ended and Andrew leant back against his pillows exhausted.

Foyle tore his worried gaze from his son and looked up at White. The older man looked grave as he carefully slipped a thermometer under Andrew's tongue and reached out to take his pulse. He frowned at the thermometer and turned to pour Andrew a glass of water that he handed to Foyle. Foyle carefully brought it up to Andrew's lips and helped his son take a few sips.

White sighed, "you don't do things halfway do you Andrew? I'm afraid there isn't much I can offer you for that cough especially when it will hopefully keep this from settling in your chest. Tell your father immediately if you have any trouble breathing alright?"

Andrew nodded, "yes Sir."

"Good, just try and rest I'll be back this evening to check on you." He looked at Foyle, "a word?"

Foyle nodded, "of course" and then turned back to this son, "Andrew I'm just going to see Dr. White out alright?"

"Sure Dad" Andrew's voice was drowsy and his eyes were closed. Foyle rose carefully from the bed and followed Dr. White out of the room.

They found Reid standing rather awkwardly in the hall, he raised an eyebrow in question and Foyle nodded silently. White gathered his hat and coat and then turned to Foyle, "I know the cough sounds bad but like I said to Andrew it might actually be a blessing in disguise although it's too soon to tell I'm afraid. I would recommend taking his temperature every hour, more frequently if it starts to rise and call me at once if you are concerned."

Foyle nodded and ran a hand over his face. "Good then I'll see you this evening, good day Superintendent, good day Christopher" and White saw himself out of the house leaving Foyle and Reid standing alone in the front hall.

They stood in silence for a minute and then Reid turned to Foyle, "can I get you anything?"

Foyle shook his head, "no thank you Hugh, you'd best get back to the station. I'm not sure if he's contagious so it might be best if you stay away, I wouldn't want the girls to catch it."

Reid blanched slightly at the thought, "but surely White would have mentioned if he was?" Foyle shrugged but said nothing. "Right I'll swing by later then, just to see if you need anything, it's not like you'll be going to the shops anytime soon. Elaine will probably want to send something along so I wouldn't worry about dinner." Foyle started to protest but Reid shushed him with a hand on the shoulder, "let us help Christopher, we care about him too."

Foyle nodded, "thank you Hugh."

The hand on his shoulder tightened, "you're sure I can't get you anything?"

Foyle nodded, "yes I'm sure, do keep an eye on Sam and Milner for me won't you? Make sure they take a constable with them if they are interviewing a suspect. I hate to say it but as good a sergeant as Milner is chasing a suspect is a little much for him these days and I won't have Sam in danger."

Reid smiled at Foyle's protectiveness; just managing to stop himself from pointing out that Sam was pretty good at taking care of herself. Instead he shrugged on his coat and reached for his hat, "of course, I'll make sure Milner reports to me before heading out on any calls. May I tell them about Andrew? They'll be sure to ask."

Foyle thought for a minute and then nodded, "yes but be sure to tell them they aren't to come over. I know they'll mean well but I'm not in the mood for visitors and it would only tire Andrew."

Reid nodded, "of course, I'll go now but do call if you need anything alright?"

"I will thank you Hugh."

"See you this evening."

"Yes" the two men nodded at each other and then Reid headed down the steps and off towards his car. Foyle closed the door and leant against it for a minute before gathering himself and heading back upstairs.

* * *

><p>It was a long and tiring morning for both Foyle's. Andrew's fever remained high and his sweats were interspersed with coughing fits that left him exhausted. Overall he felt thoroughly miserable.<p>

For his part Foyle had his hands full trying to keep Andrew comfortable and bring the fever down. He had just helped Andrew change into yet another pair of clean pajamas and was realizing he would need to do laundry quite soon at this rate when Andrew let out a groan from the bed behind him. He spun quickly, "Andrew are you alright?"

"What do you think? I'm hot one minute and cold then next, I ache all over, I can't focus half the time and if I breathe wrong I feel like I'm going to cough up a lung. Not to mention the fact that I can't shake the feeling that I've forgotten something bloody important!"

Foyle knew that Andrew was only lashing out because he felt wretched but he couldn't help the look of concern and sorrow that crossed his face as he stood there biting his lip.

Andrew must have seen it because he sighed, "I'm sorry Dad, I know none of this is your fault and you've been a brick about me turning up like this, its just…" but before he could finish his sentence Andrew started to cough again. Foyle crossed immediately to the bed helping him lean forward and then sitting beside him, running a hand over his back and murmuring softly.

When the fit finally ended Andrew collapsed back against his pillows with a sigh, "Christ, I hate this."

Foyle nodded sympathetically and then reached for the thermometer slipping it into Andrew's mouth with practiced ease. After satisfying himself that Andrew's fever had not risen, Foyle ran a soothing hand through Andrew's hair, "just try and rest."

"But that's just it, I can't! Every time I feel like I'm about to drop off I get too hot or start coughing or something and I really feel like there's something I'm forgetting, something important."

"Well I did speak to Turner earlier and he said to tell you not to worry about anything except getting better so if it's something like that you can stop fussing."

"I don't know what it is Dad, but thank you for telephoning Turner. I hope we don't have too many ops while I'm laid up; I hate the idea of the lads going up without me. They're all so young Dad."

Foyle just stopped himself from pointing out that Andrew was also very young saying instead, "I'm sure they'll manage for a few days. You can't fly a spitfire with a fever and you wouldn't want to get them ill as well."

Andrew nodded and leant his head back, shifting around slightly as he tried to get comfortable.

Foyle cast his eyes around the room trying to think of something that would make this easier for Andrew when his eye's landed on the bookcase. '_Reading aloud was one of the only ways to keep Andrew quiet as a child. When Andrew got chicken pox at 7 we finished both Treasure Island and Robinson Crosio in less then a week! Andrew might be 23 and feverish rather then 7 and covered in spots but it might still work_.' "I could read to you if you like?"

Andrew's eyes opened at the suggestion and he smiled broadly at his father, "just like old times? I'd like that if you really don't mind. Haven't had much time for reading anything but flight briefings since I left Oxford."

Foyle rose and crossed to the bookcase, "what would you like?"

"I don't care, just something you'll enjoy as well seeing as I'm likely to fall asleep part way through."

Foyle nodded and studied the bookcase for a minute before selecting a small hardback. Then he crossed to the bed and helped Andrew drink some water and placed a cool cloth on the back of his neck before settling himself in the armchair by the bed. With a final glance at Andrew he cleared his throat and began to read "In a hole in the ground their lived a hobbit."

Andrew's eyes flew open in surprise as he recognized the book his father had chosen but he quickly settled back against his pillows and closed his eyes, allowing his father's soothing voice to draw his thoughts away from the war and into the wonderfully peaceful world of the Shire.

They were two chapters into the Hobbit when Andrew feel asleep and began to snore softly. Foyle stopped reading and looked up with a smile; it had been a long time since he had read Andrew to sleep but it still brought the same warmth to his chest, the satisfaction of easing his boy off to sleep with just the sound of his voice.

Carefully marking the place in the book Foyle put it to one side and relaxed back into the armchair with a sigh; '_I'll just rest for a few minutes and then I'll do some laundry and see to lunch.'_ But even as he thought this he felt his eyes slide closed and within 5 minutes Christopher Foyle had also slipped off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: It has been a horrific day here in Canada and I almost didn't post this because it is so trivial in light of everything that has happened. But then I thought that maybe someone else would be looking to use a story to briefly escape the terrible reality of today and if, in this tiny way, I could help I wanted to.

My thoughts are with our fallen soldier and his family as well as the first responders, police, military, people of Ottawa and all my fellow Canadians. Stay safe. Stay strong.

* * *

><p>When Foyle woke he blinked in confusion trying to figure out where he was and what had woken him. A quick glance at the bed was all it took to remind him of the circumstances and he rose stiffly crossing to the bed and reaching out to check Andrew's fever. It was no higher then it had been earlier and Foyle breathed a sigh of relief as he carefully tucked the blankets around Andrew.<p>

He glanced at the clock and was surprised to see that it was after one. He slept for almost two hours and more importantly Andrew had as well, making it the longest stretch of peaceful sleep he'd had since waking up ill.

Now firmly anchored in time and place Foyle glanced around the room trying to determine what had woken him. He was just about to conclude that he must have woken on his own when he heard a knock at the door.

Hurrying out of the room to answer it before they could wake Andrew he tried to figure out who could be calling. '_Neither White and Reid were due until this evening.'_ After taking a minute to check his appearance he opened the door and was very surprised to see Sam standing there, a bowl and a paper wrapped package in her hands. "Sam?"

"Hello Sir! I was beginning to worry that I wouldn't catch you."

Foyle blinked at her again, trying to shake the fog of sleep from his brain, '_I was sure I told Hugh that Sam and Milner weren't to stop by._'

Sam seemed to sense his thoughts because she hurried on, "oh I know Mr. Reid said you weren't to be disturbed and I don't intend to disturb you Sir. It's just that I thought you might be hungry and not want to cook what with Andrew and all and seeing as Milner and I were at the pub he agreed that it would be alright if we just dropped this off." She thrust the packages at Foyle who took them curiously, "chicken soup for Andrew and a sandwich for you."

Foyle was touched by the gesture and instinctively put a hand into his waistcoat to reach for his pocketbook only to remember that he had left it upstairs, "Thank you Sam, now just wait a minute while I fetch my pocketbook."

"Oh no Sir you mustn't, Milner and I split it and it's only fair after all the times you've paid for tea. I do hope Andrew gets well soon and please tell him I said hello. I've really got to run now Sir, goodbye."

"I can't . ." but she was already trotting down the steps leaving him with no choice but to accept, "Sam."

She turned with an anxious look on her face, "yes Sir?"

"Thank you, this is very kind of you both."

A brilliant smile blossomed over Sam's face and Foyle felt himself returning it, "oh you're welcome Sir now I really must run, goodbye!"

"Goodbye" Foyle stood in the doorway for a minute as he watched her walk away, '_typical Sam, bursting with energy and kindness_.'

He shook his head as he closed the door and head toward the kitchen, '_I'm very glad that Reverend Stewart agreed to let Sam stay on as my driver. The station would be much gloomier without her cheerful presences and unflagging enthusiasm although,'_ He chuckled softly_ 'there might be a few more biscuits in the kitchen.' _

He set the soup and sandwich down on the counter and then went upstairs to check on Andrew. Amazingly he was still sleeping peacefully so Foyle quietly gathered the laundry and went back downstairs; a sandwich and some tea sounded just about perfect right now.


	7. Chapter 7

'_I must have been hit, that was the only way to explain how hot it in the cockpit. Andrew tried to turn his head to look over his shoulder but something seemed to be stopping him. He groaned in frustration. It was getting hotter; the plane must be on fire. I'll have to bail out, damn! He reached up and popped his canopy and then tried to turn to make sure his chute was on properly but again the movement was checked_.'

"Sshh its alright, calm down."

Andrew frowned, the voice sounded familiar but he couldn't place it. _'Whoever it was must be mad if they think I should be calming down while my planes on fire! He could feel the flames getting closer and quickly undid his shoulder straps and tried to get up but firm hands held him down_.

"No lie still Andrew, it's alright."

'_It most decidedly is not bloody all right! The plane is on fire! I need to get out now!_' He struggled harder but without success. He was starting to feel a little desperate now, "get off! Let me out!"

"Andrew it's alright, I'm here, Dad's here." Foyle shook Andrew gently by the shoulders trying to break through the nightmare that was causing his son such anguish.

Andrew frowned as the last part of the sentence worked it's way into his fever muddled brain, '_Dad, what would Dad be doing in my spit? Oh Christ he didn't have a chute or a life vest! Andrew began to try and remove his life vest, 'Dad will need it more then I do. I know I can tread water fairly well but I don't think Dad's swam in years.' His movements felt clumsy and he couldn't seem to get the damned thing off. He began to panic again, 'the flames would reach the cockpit any minute._'

"Dad help!"

"Help you with what Andrew?" Foyle spoke with a calmness that belied his worry as he watched his son fight against his nightmare.

"Get vest off, you need it, need to jump!"

"Jump where Andrew?"

"Out of plane! Fire Dad!"

Foyle closed his eyes for a minute, '_no wonder Andrew is panicking, that had to be a pilot's worst fear; to be stuck in a burning plane_.'

"Andrew listen to me, you aren't in a plane you're at home in bed. There's no fire, you're perfectly safe."

Andrew frowned, "hot."

"That's because you have a fever. Can you open your eyes for me?"

Andrew frowned again, trying to fight his way through the haze to consciousness. The plane was fading and it's place he could feel a hand running through his hair and hear the low murmur of his father's voice. With an effort he opened his eyes and was rewarded by the familiar sight of his father's face. "Dad?"

Foyle breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Andrew's eyes flutter open, "yes Andrew I'm here."

"Not on plane?"

"No Andrew you're not on a plane, you're home you're safe."

"Oh good" Andrew's eyes began to close again as he relaxed back against his pillows.

Foyle continued to run a hand through Andrew's hair as he reached for the thermometer. Andrew felt warmer but that might just be the nightmare. "Andrew I need to take your temperature alright?" Andrew obediently opened his mouth allowing Foyle to slip the thermometer under his tongue, "that's it just rest, mhhm."

After the requisite amount of time had passed Foyle removed the thermometer and studied it with a frown. Andrew's fever had risen. Foyle ran a hand over his face, glad that Dr. White would be coming by in a few hours. In the mean time he needed to get Andrew cleaned up.

He looked down at his son and spoke softly, "Andrew what do you say we get you changed into some clean pajamas?"

"'m tired."

"I know but you need to change or you'll get a chill. Don't worry I'll help you."

"'kay"

"Good, let's sit you up a bit" Foyle slide an arm under Andrew's shoulders and slowly pulled him up into a sitting position before helping him lean back against the headboard. Grabbing the water glass off the nightstand he helped Andrew take a few sips and then rose from the bed saying as he did so, "just rest, I'm going to fetch a basin of water and your pajamas" Andrew nodded, eyes already closing.

By the time Andrew was cleaned up and in fresh pajamas he was feeling awake enough to be hungry and welcomed his father's suggestion of soup. He only managed half a bowl, which concerned Foyle although he made no comment.

The rest of the afternoon past fairly pleasantly with Andrew resting and Foyle reading aloud, stopping periodically to take Andrew's temperature and ease his coughing fits.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I have taken the liberty of naming Hugh and Elaine Reid's daughters Maggie and Grace. I have made them significantly younger than Andrew so Maggie is 9 and Grace 6 at the time of this story. I hope you enjoy them and are enjoying the story in general :)

Foyle was just putting the kettle on when there was a knock at the door. He answered it and was pleased to find Dr. White standing on the doorstep. "Good evening Christopher."

"Doctor, do come in" Foyle stepped aside to let the doctor pass and White stepped briskly into the house and began to remove his coat.

"Thank you. How is he?"

Foyle frowned as he hung up the doctors coat, "the fever held steady for the most of the day but its up now. He slept pretty well this afternoon until he had a hellish nightmare, thought he was in a burning plane." Foyle shuddered slightly at the thought as he led the way upstairs.

White nodded as he listened, "not that unusual for people to dream about fires when they're feverish and given the amount of time he spends in a cockpit these days it does make sense. Must have been quite unpleasant though."

"mmhm"

"Have you been able to get him to drink?"

"Yes when he's been awake, he had some soup for lunch as well." They had reached Andrew's room by this point and Foyle paused to let the doctor precede him into the room.

Andrew sat dozing against the headboard. Foyle crossed to the bed and ran a gentle hand through Andrew's hair, "Andrew, wake up, the doctor's here to see you."

"mhm Dad?"

"Yup."

"Tired."

"I know but Dr. White needs to have a look at you and then you can go back to sleep alright?" Andrew nodded obediently but made no move to open his eyes. Foyle sighed and spoke firmly, "that means you need to wake up Andrew."

Andrew blinked up at him indigently, "I'm 'wake."

White's chuckle remind the father and son of his presence and they looked up as he approached the bed, "I'm glad you're awake Andrew, now how are you feeling?"

"Tired and too hot."

White nodded and reached for the thermometer, "right well lets just see what your temperature is" he slipped it into Andrew's mouth and then reached out to take his pulse. He frowned slightly at both, "definitely up from this morning but that could be the time of day as well, fevers do tend to rise in the evening. Let's have a listen to your chest."

Foyle had just finished unbuttoning Andrew's top when there was a knock on the door, "that must be Reid" he paused and looked between Andrew and the doctor, "you'll be alright?"

White nodded briskly, "of course Christopher, now go and let Mr. Reid in before he thinks something's wrong and tries to break down the door."

Foyle nodded with a slight smile, "right, just call if you need me, I won't be long."

Hugh Reid was just considering knocking again when the door opened to reveal a tired and slightly disheveled Christopher Foyle. "Christopher how is he?"

Foyle shrugged as he gestured for Reid to enter, "much the same, the doctor's with him now."

Reid nodded and handed the pot and bowl that he held to Foyle so he could take off his coat. "That's beef tea for Andrew and stew for you. There's no point complaining, Elaine insisted and you should know it's dangerous to argue with a women with a wooden spoon."

He smiled cheekily and Foyle found himself smiling back, "be that as it may Hugh, I really can't allow you and Elaine to use up your rations like this. The soup for Andrew is much appreciated but I'm perfectly capable to feeding myself."

Reid sighed, '_I knew this would come up eventually, thank goodness I spoke to Elaine about it over supper. I only hope Christopher will agree with our plan.'_

"I knew you'd say something like this so I spoke to Elaine and we think we've come up with a solution. If you give me yours and Andrew's ration cards for the week I'll go around to the shops now to get you tea and eggs and that sort of thing. Then I'll take the cards home to Elaine and she'll use them to get the meat and vegetables she needs for cooking."

"Then you still won't have to cook but you won't be taking anything out of our rations. Broth barely uses anything as it is and Elaine will just make you an extra helping of whatever we're having and I'll bring it around later. What do you say?"

Foyle considered this carefully, '_it's a very generous offer I hate to add to Elaine's workload but it is very tempting. I learned to cook after Rose died but never well and it would leave me free to spend more time with Andrew.' _

He hesitated, "that's very generous of you both Hugh but you're sure it will be alright? I'm sure Elaine is busy enough with the girls and keeping you in line."

Reid nodded, "it was her idea, she says broth is easy as can be and it's hardly any work to make an extra serving of dinner. I know you don't like to ask for help but your not asking we're offering and we want to help."

He spoke earnestly and Foyle was touched by the concern in friend's voice, "well in that case I would be very foolish not to accept. Thank you very much Hugh this is really very good of you both."

Reid smiled and clapped Foyle on the shoulder, "our pleasure, now if you figure out what you need I'll pop 'round to the shops now." Foyle nodded and headed to the kitchen with Reid following in his wake.

It didn't take long to mock up a list and soon they were standing in the hall again as Reid slipped his coat on. He reached to take the list from Foyle and then paused as he felt something crinkle in his jacket. Rolling his eyes at himself for forgetting he withdrew some papers from the inside pocket of his coat and handed them to Foyle, "from the girls for Andrew" he explained.

Foyle smiled as he careful unfolded the papers and found himself staring at a picture of a figure in blue, who he assumed was supposed to be Andrew, standing next to a rough approximation of a spitfire. The drawing was signed in neat but childish handwriting "get well soon Andrew, love Maggie." He smiled up at Reid, who smiled back and explained, "Apparently it's to stop him missing his plane. I think she thinks it's sort of like a pet."

Foyle gave one of his upside down smiles, "if you listened to him talk about it you'd think it was." He looked at the next drawing with a fond smile. It was clearly done by a younger child but the image was still very discernable as was the message that read "to Andrew love Grace."

The picture appeared to be of a princess of some type for she had a crown and a pink dress. He looked at Reid for the explanation, "that is apparently a fairy princess to make Andrew well so they can go to the park again."

Foyle smiled, "she still remembers that? I would have thought she'd be too young."

Reid shook his head, "I don't think she'll ever forget it, either of them. They mention him in their prayer's every night you know. They think of him as an older brother, he's always been so good to them and that day in the park made him a hero in their minds. The fact that he has a uniform now only adds to it, although thank God they don't realize how much danger he's really in."

Foyle nodded as he thought back to the day that was almost 2 years ago now.

_It was Andrew's first Sunday back in Hastings after finishing his exams and they had plans to go to the river after church. They were just speaking to the Reids when a constable arrived and announced that DCS Foyle and Superintendent Reid were needed at the station right away._

_This news was meet with varying levels of disappointment most noticeably from the Reid girls who had been promised an afternoon at the park with their father while their mother was at a parish meeting. _

_For a minute it looked like tears were imminent as Reid carefully explained that 'Daddy needed to go to work so they would have to stay here and wait for Mummy.' Then, unexpectedly, Andrew spoke up "If its alright with you Sir, I could take the girls to the park."_

_Reid and Foyle both turned to look at Andrew in surprise, "that's very kind of you Andrew but you must have other plans?" Reid said._

_Andrew shook his head, "no Sir. Dad and I had been planning to head to the river but I would much rather spend my time in the company of these beautiful girls then any ugly old trout." He winked at the girls as he spoke making them giggle. _

_Reid looked at Foyle questioningly but Foyle just shrugged, "you girls get to choose, do you want to go to the park with Andrew or stay here and wait for Mummy?"_

"_Park please!" _

_Reid smiled and looked at Andrew again, "you're sure now?"_

"_Yes Sir, don't worry I take good care of them."_

"_I know you will son. Elaine's meeting will be over by 12:30pm and she'll expect them home for tea by 1pm."_

_Andrew nodded, "right. I guess I'll see you later then Dad?"_

_Foyle nodded "apparently." He was less then thrilled to be going to work instead of to the river. _

_Andrew smiled, "don't worry I'm here all summer there'll be lots of time to fish. Now, shall we ladies?"_

_Reid and Foyle stood silently watching their children walk away. Andrew strong and tall, just on the cusp of manhood and Reid's little girls still full of childish innocence skipping along happily on either side of him, their little hands clasped in his big ones. The constable cleared his throat and Foyle and Reid reluctantly turned and followed him toward the car. _

_Once they reached the park Andrew threw himself whole-heartedly into every game Maggie and Grace could come up with. He pushed them on the swings, carried them on his shoulders and was both the dragon that imprisoned the princesses and the knight who rescued them. And then to cap it all off he bought them ices. It was a treat that they very rarely had and certainly never before tea, the girls were thrilled. _

_Before they knew it, it was time to head back for tea. Andrew was careful to wipe away all traces of ice cream from their faces before swinging Grace up on to his shoulders for the walk home. They had arrived at the Reids' house decidedly more disheveled then they had left church but Mrs. Reid had taken one look at their beaming faces and ushered them all in for tea without a word. _

"Well I'd best be off before the shops close."

Reid's voice roused Foyle from his memories and he looked up with a smile, "yes of course, thanks again Hugh and please thank the girls for these drawing I'm sure they will cheer Andrew up immensely."

Reid smiled, "of course, I won't be long" and with a final nod he left. Foyle stood in the hallway for another minute before making his way upstairs, drawings in hand.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! I am so glad that you liked the Reid girls. I hope you like this next chapter as well :)

Upstairs he found Dr. White trying to button an uncooperative Andrew's pajama top, "come on Andrew, hold still a moment."

But Andrew tried to bat the doctors hands away, "want Dad."

"I'm here Andrew" Foyle said crossing quickly to the bed and placing the drawings to one side.

Dr. White looked up and moved aside to let Foyle take over, "ah thank you Christopher I was just about to call you. Your son is a stubborn man."

Foyle nodded and quickly buttoned Andrew's pajama top and settled him back against the pillows.

"Dad?"

"Yes Andrew?"

"I'm cold."

Foyle frowned and laid a hand against Andrew's forehead, his fever was definitely higher. He rose and got another blanket from the cupboard and spread it over the bed. "There, is that better?"

Andrew nodded, "tired."

"Go to sleep then" Foyle said carefully running a hand through his son's thick hair. Andrew settled quickly at the familiar touch and soon his breathing was deep and even.

White waited a few minutes and then touched Foyle lightly on the shoulder, "Christopher may I speak with you downstairs?"

Foyle nodded and after a final check to make sure Andrew was resting comfortably he turned and followed the doctor out the room.

Once they were downstairs White looked around curiously, "Where is the Superintendent?"

"He's gone out to the shops to fetch a few things for me. How's Andrew?"

The doctor sighed and ran a hand through his white hair, "well as you know his fever's up. Now part of that is just the normal response to him being tired at the end of the day. However the amount it has risen leads me believe that we're about to enter the eye of the storm so to speak. If we can get his fever to break tonight then I think we'll be in the clear."

"And if we can't?"

White sighed again, "Well then he'll have a bit of tougher go of things."

"Meaning?"

"It's more likely to develop into pneumonia." Foyle drew in his breath in sharply at this and Dr. White hastened to reassure him, "I still have every reason to believe he'll come out of this fine even if he does develop pneumonia Christopher. He's a strong lad."

Foyle nodded distractedly, "I still don't see how one soaking could have led to this. He was wet more then he was dry as a boy and he was fine."

White sighed, "Like I said before it's the exhaustion more then the dousing he got. When you're worn down your body can't fight off infection the way it normally does. And with the amount he's been flying . . . " He trailed off as he saw Foyle flinch, "I'm sorry Christopher."

Foyle shook his head, "no its not you Peter, its this damn war." He stopped and jammed his hands in his pockets staring unseeingly into the fireplace.

White studied him in silence for a moment and then placed a warm hand on his shoulder, "go and sit with him for a bit, but when Reid comes back I want you to come down and have some supper."

Foyle started to protest but White continued undaunted, "I can stay for a while longer and I think it's going to be a long night, you need to keep your strength up. It won't help Andrew if you wear yourself out and if earlier was any indication he won't be settled by anyone else."

Foyle looked slightly uncomfortable, "yeah sorry about that, after Rosalind . . ." He trailed off and White nodded sympathetically.

'_When Andrew had fallen ill shortly after Rosalind's death his fevered calls for his mother had almost broken Christopher's heart. Some how the lad must have realized this for a year later he called for no one but his father and usually refused to be settled by anyone else when he was ill. Clearly something's didn't change_.'

"Go on Christopher, I'll come and fetch you once Reid's back."

Foyle could see that arguing would be pointless so he nodded once and headed for the stairs.

Andrew was moving restlessly when he entered the room so he crossed immediately to the bed and perched himself by Andrew's hip. "Shh Andrew, it's alright settle down." His words were soft as he ran a hand through Andrew's hair.

The combination rarely failed to comfort his boy and this was no exception. Andrew stilled immediately, "Dad?" he mumbled.

"Yes Andrew I'm here."

"Okay?"

Foyle smiled softly, "yes son, I'm fine."

"Good, need you."

"What do you need Andrew?"

"You."

"I'm here Andrew, don't worry just rest. I'll be here."

"Promise?"

"Yes son I promise. Hush now, you need to rest."

Andrew mumbled something unintelligible and then shifted slightly under his father's hand and fell asleep.

Foyle studied his sleeping son carefully, thinking back to all of the other times he had sat in this very spot. '_Andrew had always resisted being put to bed as a child but they had learned early on that running a hand through his hair was the easiest way to lull him to sleep. I sat here just like this almost every night, well until he got older and started going to bed by himself.' _Foyle shook his head softly, _'it's funny how much I missed this, just sitting here watching him fall asleep.' _

'_But then Rose died_' Foyle shuddered as he remembered the fear and sorrow that had filled his son's eyes when he had awoken screaming for his father, terrified that he had died as well. '_It was like he was a little boy again, couldn't sleep unless I was beside him._' Foyle felt his heartache at the memory for although it had been almost nine years the pain of Rosalind's death was only slightly dulled. _'Oh Rose I miss you so much my darling.'_

The nightmares had faded as time went on and now it was only when Andrew was ill that Foyle found himself easing his son to sleep in this manner.

He looked down at his son, '_He might be a squadron leader now but to me he's still the little boy who was terrified that a sea monster was going to drag him from his bed_.' He bent and kissed Andrew's brow softly, "sleep son, I'm here."


	10. Chapter 10

When Hugh Reid quietly opened the front door of No. 31 Steep Lane he was surprised to find Dr. White sitting reading in the lounge. He had seen the car outside but assumed that the doctor would be up with Andrew.

The doctor looked up as he entered, "ah Superintendent, good to see you again."

"And you Sir. Forgive me but is everything all right? I mean why aren't you. . ."

"Up with Andrew?" White finished. Reid nodded. "I was actually waiting for you Superintendent."

"Me Sir?"

"Yes, here why don't we finish this discussion in the kitchen?" White gestured with his head and picking up one of the bags of shopping headed down the hall leaving Reid to follow in his wake.

"What can I do for you doctor?" Reid asked as he set about putting away the groceries.

"I was hoping that you would have time to sit with Christopher while he has some supper. Andrew's fever is up so it's likely to be a long night and I want Christopher to take a bit of a break. The only way that's going to happen is if there is someone to sit with Andrew, me, and someone to cajole him into sitting down for a minute. A task I was hoping you would agree to."

Reid nodded, "Of course, how high is Andrew's fever? Christopher has hardly been forthcoming with information."

White sighed, "pretty high but if we can get it to break tonight I think he'll be alright. If we can't its very likely that we'll be looking at pneumonia."

Reid cursed under his breath and then looked up sheepishly, "sorry doctor it's just .."

White shook his head, "it's alright I know how much you care about them. Try not to fret too much though. I'm confident that Andrew will be fine even if he does develop pneumonia, although I'd much rather avoid it all together."

Reid nodded but his face remained grave. White clapped him on the shoulder, "chin up old man, Christopher is worried enough for all of us. I'll head up now, why don't you come up once you get done here?"

Reid straightened and nodded again forcing a smile. "Of course, I shan't be long."

The scene that met Reid's eyes when he stood in Andrew's doorway a short while later was so reminiscent of the last few weeks of Rosalind's life that he felt a lump develop in his throat. Foyle sat on the bed, running his hand softly through Andrew's thick hair, his entire posture speaking of worry and exhaustion. While White was standing over by the window, witness but not intruder to this private moment between father and son.

White caught sight of Reid and nodded slightly before clearing his throat. "Christopher why don't you head down with Mr. Reid and get some supper? I'll sit with Andrew."

Foyle looked like he was about to object so Reid spoke up. "Come on Christopher, you know Elaine will be disappointed if she hears that you didn't even try the stew."

Foyle nodded slowly but still looked reluctant to leave his post. Reid crossed to the bed and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Christopher," he said softly, "he'll be alright and we'll be just downstairs. Dr. White will call if he needs you."

Foyle nodded again and with a final glance at Andrew rose slowly from the bed and allowed Reid to guide him out of the room.

Just as Dr. White had predicted the night that followed was one of the longest Foyle had endured in many years. Andrew's fever remained high despite the cold compresses, leaving him shivering one minute and trying to throw off his covers the next. Even when he slept he was rarely still, tossing and turning away from nightmares and calling out for squadron mates and his father in turn.

Dawn found Foyle sitting slumped in the armchair by Andrew's bed and White in the kitchen making tea. Andrew was finally sleeping peacefully and Foyle sighed and allowed himself to acknowledge his own exhaustion.

The peace was short lived as Andrew began to twist and call desperately for his father, "Dad! Dad!"

Foyle ran a hand over his face and moved to sit on Andrew's bed, "hush Andrew, I'm here." His voice was low and rough from over use.

"Dad I can see Mum!"

Andrew's words cut through Foyle's exhaustion with an icy bolt of shock, pain and fear. He reached out and caught one of Andrew's flailing hands. "Andrew, calm down." His voice shook despite his best efforts.

"No Dad, I can see her! She's just ahead of me, if I run a can catch her!"

"Andrew no!" Foyle's cry was so heartbroken that White almost dropped the tea tray as he entered the room.

"Christopher what is it?" He asked as he set the tray down and crossed immediately to the bed, his eyes anxiously scanning Andrew.

Foyle didn't even acknowledge his presence; his attention was focused solely on his son. "Listen to me son, you need to stay here with me."

"But Dad?" Andrew's enthusiasm was now tinged with uncertainty.

Foyle spoke firmly, "Stay here Andrew. Mum" his voice cracked and he swallowed hard, "Mum will always be watching over you but I need you to stay here with me. Please son."

White realized what must have happened and felt a sudden surge of sympathy as he looked at the man in front of him. Foyle sat on Andrew's bed desperately clutching his son's hand, his eyes filled with tears.

This was not the Detective Chief Superintendent that was so well known in Hastings for his unflappable composure. This was a man who had lost his wife almost nine years ago and still mourned her daily. This was a man who lived constantly with the fear of losing his only son and with him his reason to carry on.

White shook his head sadly and had just moved to take Andrew's temperature when the younger Foyle spoke. "I could have caught her Dad, I'm sure of it." His voice was full of hurt but just the sound of it helped to slow his father's pounding heart.

"No Andrew it wasn't the right time." Foyle's voice was thick with tears that he refused to shed.

"I miss her Dad." Andrew said softly, sounding so young and sad that Foyle felt tears running slowly down his cheek.

"I know son, so do I." His voice was so rough that even through his fever Andrew realized something was wrong.

He frowned and blinked up at his father, "Dad? Okay?"

Foyle nodded and forced a watery smile, "yes Andrew I'm fine. Hush now, its alright, go back to sleep." Andrew looked at him for another minute before he allowed the hand running through his hair and the low murmur of his father's voice to lull him back to sleep.

White busied himself with the tea to give Foyle a few minutes to compose himself and then turned back to the bed with a friendly smile. "Here Christopher have some tea." He said as he handed Foyle a mug.

Foyle took it wordlessly, his eyes barely straying from his son. White opened his mouth to say more and then thought better of it and picked up his own tea instead.


	11. Chapter 11

A few hours later Foyle almost found himself weeping again, this time out of relief as White confirmed that Andrew's fever had broken. Between the two of them they soon had Andrew cleaned up and settled back into a freshly made bed.

The sound of Andrew's peaceful breathing filled the room as Foyle turned to White, "Thank you Peter."

White smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, "just doing my job man. Now if it's all the same to you I think I'll try and catch an hour or so of sleep on your settee."

Foyle nodded, "of course, let me fetch you a blanket."

Once the doctor was settled in the lounge, Foyle returned to Andrew's room and sank exhausted into the armchair. '_The storm has passed and we weathered it successfully._' With a final glance at Andrew he leant his head back and gave himself over to sleep.

When Hugh Reid knocked on the door later that morning he didn't know what to expected. He had seen that Dr. White's car was still out front but that was hardly informative. He was about to knock again when the door swung open to reveal the man himself.

"Ah good morning Superintendent." White stood aside to let Reid pass.

"Good morning Sir." Reid replied as he removed his hat and entered the hall, "How are they?"

There was no mistaking the worry in Reid's voice and White smiled, relieved that he could offer good news. "Better, Andrew's fever broke a few hours ago."

"Oh thank God."

White nodded, "yes, he's still quite weak and I would wager it will be at least a week before he's well enough to return to his squadron but I believe the risk of pneumonia is all but gone."

Reid nodded, a smile breaking out over his face, "Christopher must be so relieved." White hesitated and something flickered in his eyes before he nodded. Someone else might have missed it but Reid was a policemen and he felt his gut twist in worry. "What is it?"

White sighed and smiled up at Reid a little ruefully, "nothing gets passed you does it Superintendent?"

Reid nodded vaguely "Did something happen, last night I mean?"

White sighed again and ran a hand over his face, "it's really not my place . ." he hesitated.

Reid sighed, "I understand you are bound by certain principles of your profession but come on man, all I need to know is if Christopher is all right. I can hardly be of any help if I don't know what's the matter."

White considered this for a moment and then nodded, "I see your point Superintendent." He lowered his voice slightly, "Now I wasn't in the room at the time so I can't be certain, but I believe Andrew called for his mother during one of his nightmares last night."

Reid felt a rush of sympathy for his friend, "poor lad, he hasn't done that in years. It must have upset Christopher dreadfully."

White nodded, "I believe it did although he won't admit it. I have other calls to make today but I can stay another hour. Do you think you'll be able to convince Christopher to take the time to shave and have some breakfast?"

Reid nodded and quickly hung his hat and coat on the rack beside him. "I'll do my best." He nodded toward the stairs, indicating that the doctor should precede him, "shall we?"

It had taken a good ten minutes to convince Foyle to leave Andrew's side but he finally agreed when White pointed out that he would have to get up at some point and if he went now Andrew wouldn't be left alone.

Reid had shepherded him off to the lavatory with firm instructions to come down to the kitchen when he was finished and then gone down to make breakfast.

Foyle emerged feeling much better for the quick wash and shave but was unable to resist sticking his head into check on Andrew. White assured him he was still sleeping peacefully so Foyle made his way downstairs where he found Reid just finishing making tea.

Reid looked up as he came in "Well you look better, come and sit down." He gestured to the table. Foyle did as he was told and was soon presented with a plate of eggs and toast and a cup of tea.

Once he started to eat he realized he was actually hungry and finished his meal, minus the few pieces of toast that Hugh stole, quite quickly.

Foyle took a sip of tea and leaned back with a sigh, "thank you Hugh. I didn't realize how much I needed that."

Reid smiled back at him pleased to see that although still exhausted Foyle looked much better then he had 15 minutes earlier. "My pleasure Christopher. I understand that Andrew's on the mend?"

Foyle nodded, "yes, he appears to be, his fever finally broke a few hours ago. I have to tell you Hugh I was beginning to fear it wouldn't."

Reid nodded understandingly, "I can imagine. The last time Maggie had a fever I thought the nightmares would never end." It was a carefully planned comment and it didn't miss its mark as Foyle flinched slightly. "Did he have some bad ones?"

Reid's voice was full of empathy and Foyle found himself nodding, "God yes, the things he's seen Hugh…" He trailed off and took another sip of tea.

Reid nodded, "That must have been very hard on you Christopher."

"Oh it was harder on him then it was on me I'm sure, it was worst when he. . ." Foyle broke off. In his exhaustion he had already said more then he intended and he took another swallow of tea, hoping that Reid wouldn't notice.

But Hugh Reid had not spent over 15 years in the force for nothing, "when he what Christopher?" He prompted quietly.

Foyle sighed and ran a hand over his face, "you aren't going to let this go are you?"

"Not unless you really want me too," Reid replied, "I think you'll feel better if you tell someone."

Foyle sighed and brought his hand up to his mouth, "he said he could see Rosalind Hugh, wanted to chase after her." He broke off and turned his head away, "I thought" he stopped again his voice chocked with tears.

"Thought you were going to lose him too?" Reid asked softly.

"Yes. I don't know what I'd do if I did Hugh, he's all I have." Foyle's voice was more heartbroken then Reid had heard it in years and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

"I know I could lose him any day as long as this bloody war drags on but to hear him call for Rose…" Foyle broke off again and brought a hand up to cover his eyes.

Reid blinked back his own tears as he rose and came up behind Foyle placing a hand on his shoulder. He stood there silently for a few minutes before saying softly, "he's going to be all right Christopher he's through the worst of it now."

Foyle nodded but didn't move from where he sat, elbows resting against the table his face buried in his hands. Reid could feel his shoulders shaking under his hand and tightened his grip slightly as he stood in silent witness to his friend's fear and relief.


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I've given Foyle and Reid a little more backstory on their friendship in this chapter. Hope you like it and will let know what you think :)

When Foyle re-entered Andrew's bedroom 20 minutes later Dr. White was pleased to see how much better he looked. Clean-shaven and dressed in a fresh suit, he looked much more like the man that all of Hastings was used to seeing. But appearance aside it was the look in his eyes that reassured White the most.

Where an hour ago there had been a sickening combination of grief, worry and exhaustion, there was now the customary calm tinged with the other three. He looked up at Reid and nodded very slightly.

"Well you look better Christopher. Andrew's been asleep the whole time, I'll just take his temperature and then be on my way."

Andrew's temperature was still normal much to everyone's relief so White took his leave promising to call back that evening if he didn't hear from Foyle sooner.

Reid watched as Foyle sat on Andrew's bed and ran a hand through his sleeping son's hair. It was obvious that he was still shaken from Andrew's earlier nightmare but not the extent he had been before.

He cleared his throat, "well unless I can be of any help I should probably get along to the station."

Foyle looked up and nodded, "of course." He paused and chewed his lip for a minute, "about earlier" he began but Reid cut him off.

"Nothing you haven't done for me." He said firmly as he held Foyle's gaze. It was true of course, not that either of them would mention it under any other circumstances. The night that Grace was born it had been Reid falling apart.

_Christopher had heard that Elaine was in labour and dropped by to sit with him. It had turned out to be a blessing that he was there. It was getting on to the wee hours of the morning and both men's nerves were more then a little frayed from a night of listening to Elaine's pained cries, when White appeared in the doorway a tiny bundle in his arms. He offered Reid a tired smile, "congratulations, you have another daughter." _

_Reid beamed and collapsed back into his chair in relief while Foyle added his congratulations. The celebration was short lived however for as Reid looked up and asked "how's Elaine?" The smile on Dr. White's face was replaced with a grave look that stole Reid's breath and he felt Foyle's hand tighten on his shoulder. "Doctor?"_

_White sighed and crossed the room, carefully placing the baby in her father's arms. "She's had a rough go of things Hugh. She's lost more blood then I would like, she's very weak right now."_

_Reid looked between the doctor and his new daughter unable to comprehend what the White was saying, 'Elaine had to be alright, she just had to be!' Before he could form the words he heard Christopher asking the question for him, "will she need to go to hospital?"_

"_She may" White replied "but at the moment I think moving her would do more harm then good. She desperately needs to rest."_

"_Can I see her?" Reid asked his voice so rough that he hardly recognized it himself. _

_White hesitated and Reid felt his worry turning into anger, "god damn it man! She's my wife I have just as much right to see her, more in fact, especially if . ." His voice broke and he felt Foyle's hand tighten on his shoulder again._

_White sighed, "alright but only for a minute, like I said she needs to rest."_

_Reid nodded and rose carefully, a small smile forming as he looked down at his brand new daughter. He looked at White questioningly and the doctor smiled, "best bring her with you, I'm sure Elaine will want another look."_

_Reid nodded and quickly followed the doctor out of the room. _

_When he returned 5 minutes later he no longer had the baby and looked more shaken then Foyle had ever seen him. He walked blindly into the room and collapsed into his chair. _

_Foyle rose and poured a good measure of scotch, which he pressed into Reid's hand. "Hugh? Have a drink it will help with the shock."_

_Reid obeyed instinctively but remained silent. Foyle sat quietly across from him for a while but when it became apparent that Reid had no intension of speaking he sighed and cleared his throat. "Hugh?"_

_Reid looked up and ran a hand over his face, "Christopher, I . ." he broke off and stared blindly into his glass. Foyle waited, he had known Hugh long enough to know that he would continue when he was ready. "She's so pale and tired and I saw .."_

_Reid suddenly shuddered and looked a little green. Foyle sat up straighter in his chair, "saw what Hugh?" He prompted gently._

"_I saw the sheets man! So much blood." He shuddered again and ran a hand through his hair before looking up at Foyle. "What am I going to do Christopher?" His voice was broken and his eyes had the half-wild look of a man in danger of falling into a blind panic. _

_Foyle chewed his lip for a minute weighing his words carefully before he spoke. "Has Dr. White said anything else to give you cause to worry?"_

_Reid shook his head, "no, but what he said earlier was enough."_

_Foyle nodded understandingly, "well then as pointless as this sounds, I think your only option is to wait. You have every reason to believe she'll be all right Hugh, she's one of the most stubborn people I know. Has to be to put up with you."_

_Reid looked up at him, anguish written in every aspect of his face, "I can't lose her Christopher, I can't."_

_Foyle swallowed down the pain of his own loss and crossed to Hugh's chair placing a hand on his friend's tense shoulder. "I know Hugh."_

_Whether it was the words or the fact that they we're coming from a man who really did know what it was like to lose the love of his life, Reid would never know. But whatever the cause he suddenly found himself sobbing as he had not done in years, pouring out his worry and fear, his best friend by his side. _

_Thankfully of course, Elaine had been fine. But Hugh had never forgotten how Foyle had stood beside him, a silent pillar of strength and compassion, during the worst 24 hours of his life._

Back in Andrew's room the two men nodded at each other, the memories of a long friendship flowing easily between them.

"Right well I'll swing by later with supper but be sure to call the station if I can be of any help."

Foyle nodded, "I will, thank you Hugh."

Reid nodded back, "anytime old man, do try and get some rest."

Foyle nodded again and Reid quietly left the room and let himself out of the house. Foyle sat on the edge of Andrew's bed staring down at his son for a long while, allowing the gentle rise and fall of Andrew's chest to ease the fear in his heart.


	13. Chapter 13

Andrew woke slowly, fighting through a fog of memories to consciousness. He lay there trying to sort things out. '_I know I came home and talked to Dad but after that it gets a little hazy. His mind provided a jumbled mixture of images that made very little sense. The only constant that ran through all of them was his father.' _

'_Dad's voice telling me it was all right, Dad's hand in my hair. It didn't matter if I was trapped in a dogfight or battling dragons Dad was there, just like always_.' He turned his head and saw his father dozing in the armchair beside the bed.

"Dad?" His voice came out as a harsh croak but Foyle reacted instantly, snapping awake and looking toward the bed.

"Andrew" the relief in his voice was palpable and Andrew smiled up at him.

"Hi Dad." He wanted to say more but a harsh cough tore through his chest stealing his breath.

Foyle quickly eased him into a sitting position and ran a comforting hand over his back, murmuring softly until the fit had passed.

Andrew leaned back against his pillows, exhausted and breathing hard. He opened his eyes again as he felt his father's hand on his forehead. He opened his mouth to speak but Foyle shushed him quickly bring a glass of water to his lips. "Here have a drink, that's it."

The water felt heavenly on his parched throat and once he had drunk his fill he smiled up at Foyle noting the worry in his father's eyes with a twinge of regret. "Dad I'm . ." He began but Foyle slipped a thermometer under his tongue effectively silencing him.

"Hush for a minute Andrew, just need to check your temperature." Andrew wanted to protest but found he didn't have the energy. He closed his eyes and let himself relax as his father ran comforting fingers through his hair.

He must have dozed off because the next time he opened his eyes his father was once again sitting in the armchair reading a book, a cup of tea beside him. He rubbed a hand over his eyes, "Dad?"

Foyle put down the book and smiled at him "Andrew, how do you feel?"

"Confused. I remember coming home but . ." He started to cough again before he could finish his sentence and it was another 5 minutes before the fit had passed and his father had settled him back against his pillows.

He sighed with frustration, "Dad what?"

"Happened?" His father finished.

Andrew nodded, unwilling to speak again in case it resulted in another coughing fit. Foyle smiled tiredly at him, "you've had a fever Andrew." He brought a hand up to Andrew's forehead again and smiled down at him when he found it cool. "It's broken now but it was very high last night."

"Oh" Andrew frowned as he tried to piece together the fragments that he remembered, "Dr. White?"

"Yes, Dr. White was here, he left a few hours ago. After your fever broke."

Andrew nodded and closed his eyes as he leaned back against his pillows, '_how can I be so tired? I just woke up!' _He blinked up at his father, "base?"

Foyle frowned for a minute before he puzzled out what Andrew was asking. He shook his head, '_his fever had only broken a few hours ago and already he's was worried about flying.'_ "I called Turner yesterday he knows you won't be in for a bit, don't worry."

"Okay" he yawned, "sorry."

Foyle shook his head and ran a hand through Andrew's hair, "don't be, you've been through a lot, just rest now."

Andrew snuggled further under the covers and Foyle thought he had fallen back to sleep until he opened his eyes again and smiled sleepily up at his father. "Thanks Dad."

Foyle felt his heart swell with affection as he smiled down at his boy, "anytime son."

His voice was thick with emotion and Andrew frowned slightly, "okay?"

"Yes Andrew I'm fine. Hush now, just rest." His voice was low and soothing and Andrew felt his eyelids grow heavier.

He tried to fight it at first feeling that there was something else that he needed to say but the combination of his father's voice and the fingers running through his hair were steadily lulling him to sleep.

"Shh Andrew…just rest…I'm here…mhm" Foyle murmured softly. He could tell that Andrew was struggling to stay awake, '_stubborn lad_.' "I'll still be here when you wake up…shh… that's it…" Slowly Andrew's breathing leveled out and he relaxed completely against his pillows.

Foyle stayed where he was for several minutes until he was sure Andrew was asleep and then rose carefully. Bending down he tucked the blankets more closely around his son before sitting back down in the chair by the bed, content to wait untilAndrew needed him again.

* * *

><p>When Andrew woke next it was dusk and he realized with a start that he was hungry. He tried to push himself up in bed but found he couldn't manage it and slumped back against his pillows with a frustrated groan.<p>

Foyle's head snapped up at the noise and he crossed immediately to the bed, his brow furrowed with concern, "Andrew are you alright?"

Andrew nodded and struggled to sit up again, only managing it this time because Foyle slipped a strong arm behind his shoulders and gently helped him up into a sitting position. "Easy" Foyle soothed handing him a glass of water and helping him hold it as his hands shook.

Andrew drank his fill and then leaned back against his pillows, "God, why am I so tired?"

"Well you were delirious with fever for over 10 hours Andrew, that tends to wear most people out."

Foyle's tone was light but Andrew could see the worry and exhaustion in his father's face and felt a stab of guilt for being the cause of it. "Sorry Dad."

"For what? You didn't intend to get ill did you?"

"No but . ."

"It's not your fault you were ill Andrew. Would appreciate it if you could avoid walking through storms in the future though." Foyle said with a slight smile.

Andrew grinned back, "I'll try Dad, no promises though. What day is it?"

"Friday"

"What? How?"

"Well you came home Wednesday night and were out of your head with fever most of yesterday."

"Oh." Andrew considered this for a minute and then he felt his father's hand on his forehead again and looked up with a smile, "I'm fine Dad."

Foyle nodded but continued to worry his cheek. He was afraid that this would turn out to be some kind of dream and he would wake up to find Andrew still battling a high fever, the threat of pneumonia hanging over their heads.

"Dad?" Andrew's voice broke through his worries and he quickly looked down at his son.

"Yes Andrew?"

"I'm hungry."

If Andrew had been trying to assure his father that he was truly on the mend he couldn't not have chosen a better way, a hungry Andrew was normally a healthy one. Foyle's lips quirked down into a smile as he looked down at his son. "I'm glad to hear it. I'll go and heat you up some beef tea how does that sound?"

"Beef tea? Mum used to make that when I was ill."

Something flickered in Foyle's eyes but was gone so quickly that Andrew wondered if he'd imagined it. "Yes she did and Elaine sent some over with Hugh last night so you're in luck. Alright to sit by yourself for a bit?"

Andrew nodded, "Sure Dad."

Foyle studied him carefully for a minute and then nodded, "good. I won't be long but call if you need me, alright?"

Andrew nodded "Yes Dad." Foyle looked him over once more and then left the room.

Foyle took the time to do the blackout while he waited for the soup to heat so he expected that Andrew would be asleep again when he came back up. To his surprise he found him still awake and carefully studying the drawings that had been left on the bedside table the night before.

He looked up as Foyle came in and held up the drawings with a grin. "I hope these aren't both supposed to be pictures of me" he said nodding toward the fairy princess that Grace had drawn.

Foyle smiled back at him and shook his head, "no, apparently that" he gestured to Grace's drawing, "is a fairy princess to make you well so you can take the girls to the park again."

Andrew laughed and studied the pictures again, a fond smile playing at his lips, "that day feels like it was a million years ago Dad."

Foyle nodded, "yes it does."

"I think about them sometimes you know? On those nights when we're being scrambled for the third time and I'm wondering what the point is. I'll think about that day in the park and it reminds me why I'm flying. So that they can grow up safe."

He looked up at Foyle his face serious, "I'd fly a hundred ops in a row if it would keep them safe Dad. That's what keeps me going, knowing that I can help keep you, the Reids, Uncle Charles and everyone else safe. It makes it worth it you know?"

Foyle nodded, pride welling up in his chest as he studied at his boy who had become a man before his very eyes. "I'm very proud of you Andrew."

Andrew ducked his head shyly, "just doing my bit, just like everyone else."

Foyle nodded and squeezed his shoulder, "I know. Now, you still hungry?"

Andrew nodded enthusiastically and Foyle smiled as he handed him the mug of beef tea, sitting down on the edge of the bed in case he needed help. "Careful it's hot."

Andrew nodded and took a sip, "it tastes like Mum's," he said with a smile.

Foyle forced himself to smile back and reached out to steady the mug in Andrew's hand. "I'm sure Elaine will be pleased to hear you think so. Now drink up, once you're finished I can read to you if you like."

Andrew frowned. There was something off; a tightness to his father's voice that he couldn't name. But before he could puzzle it out any further Foyle brought the mug to his lips again and he swallowed obediently. _'I'll have to ask Mr. Reid or Dr. White later_.' Andrew thought as he let his father help him take another sip of the beef tea.

Once the mug was empty Andrew leaned back against his pillows, "thanks Dad" he mumbled sleepily.

Foyle smiled and brushed the hair back from Andrew's forehead, allowing him to subtle check his temperature. It felt normal and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Do you need anything else?"

Andrew shook his head, already half asleep.

"Do you want me to read to you?" Andrew nodded, attempting to snuggle a little further under his covers. Foyle stood and fussed with the blankets for a minute before settling in the armchair with his slightly cold tea and The Hobbit.

Andrew smiled, as his Dad's low, soothing voice filled the bedroom. He closed his eyes and allowed it to lull him off to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Andrew awoke to the low murmur of voices. He turned his head and to his surprise found the armchair empty. He rubbed his eyes and checked again, still empty, "Dad?" His voice was low but the conversation stopped immediately.

"I'm here Andrew" Foyle said crossing quickly to the bed and placing a hand on Andrew's forehead. He frowned and turned back toward Dr. White, "I think he's running temperature again."

Andrew felt another hand replace his father's on his forehead and blinked trying to make out who's it was. "Dr. White?"

"That's right Andrew, I just need to take your temperature alright?"

Andrew nodded and opened his mouth obediently so the doctor could slip the thermometer under his tongue. He shifted slightly trying to get comfortable and felt his father's fingers running through his hair, "lie still Andrew." Foyle worried his cheek while he waited for the thermometer to register, his hand still carding through Andrew's hair.

Dr. White studied the thermometer carefully and then smiled reassuringly at Foyle, "only a degree or so above normal and not at all surprising given the time of day and the fact that his body is still fighting off this infection."

Foyle breathed a sigh of relief as White turned his attention back to Andrew. "Andrew, how do you feel?"

"Tired."

White smiled, "well I can't say I'm surprised, any aches or pains?" Andrew shook his head. "Good, I do want to have a listen to your chest though. Christopher help him up will you?"

Foyle nodded and slipped his arm under Andrew's shoulder's gently easing him upright. He was just starting to unbutton Andrew's pajama top when the telephone rang. He froze and looked between White and Andrew unsure of what he should do.

"You'd better go and answer it Christopher, Andrew and I will be fine. Won't we Andrew?"

"Yes Sir." Andrew nodded. Foyle still hesitated chewing up his lip, "Dad, I'm fine" he insisted. Foyle nodded once and left the room.

Andrew undid his top and then sat quietly while Dr. White listened to his chest. The doctor made some indistinct noises but waited until Andrew was settled back under his covers to speak. "Well your lungs sound clear which is excellent. I think you may have a touch of bronchitis though so we'll need to keep an eye on that."

Andrew nodded, "how soon until I can fly?"

White studied him carefully before replying, "I can't say for sure. At the moment I would say Tuesday at the earliest and that's assuming you stay in bed and rest like you're supposed to."

White looked at him pointedly and Andrew smiled sheepishly, he did not have the best track record when it came to obeying the doctor's orders. "Yes Sir."

He hesitated for a moment and then asked, "Is Dad alright?"

White was surprised by the question and rubbed his chin thoughtfully before replying. "Apart from being worried sick about you, yes he seems to be. Why do you ask?"

"He seems, oh I don't know, tense somehow, like he's worrying about something."

"Well you were quite ill Andrew, for a while there I was very concerned that you were going to develop pneumonia."

"But I'm fine now!" Andrew's assurance was hindered by the fact that he started to cough.

White waited until the fit passed and then handed him a glass of water saying as he did so, "you're certainly on the mend Andrew but I think you forget that although you might not remember much of the last 24 hours your father remembers it all clearly."

Andrew nodded and took a drink as he tried to piece together what he could remember of his dreams, '_dogfights over the channel, a dragon, mum, fire . . .'_ His head shot up and he stared at White, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. "Mum, I saw Mum" he whispered.

White frowned and took the glass from Andrew's shaking hand, "calm down Andrew."

"I . . . it's been years since . . . that's it isn't it? I called for Mum didn't I? That's why Dad's so upset?"

He suddenly looked very shaken and White put a comforting hand on his shoulder, "relax Andrew, it's alright."

Andrew just shook his head, "I did, didn't I?"

White sighed, "I wasn't actually in the room at the time Andrew but yes, I believe you made some reference to your mother during one of your dreams."

"God." Andrew ran a hand over his face, "I didn't mean too!"

"Of course you didn't" White said comfortingly. "Listen to me Andrew, your father would never begrudge you anything that brought you comfort. I believe it was hard for him to hear you call for your mother because he also desperately wants her to be here with you, both of you. I'm no expert but while he has done a very good job of carrying on with his life, I believe your father is still very much in love with your mother."

Andrew swallowed hard at this, '_I know Dad misses Mum but to still be in love with her, after all this time?' _"It's been over eight years."

White nodded, "yes it has but for some people love never dies. Now chin up Andrew, the best thing you can do for your Dad is focus on getting better. The sooner he sees that you're truly on the mend the sooner he will relax."

Andrew nodded and forced a smile, "right."

White smiled back, "try and get some rest Andrew. If you're still worried you could always talk to Mr. Reid when he drops by later. I'm sure he'll know better then I how your father's doing."

Andrew nodded and leaned back against his pillows, feeling more exhausted than one conversation should have left him.

* * *

><p>Downstairs, Foyle picked up the receiver, fighting down his irritation at being dragged away from Andrew's side. "Foyle here."<p>

"Mr. Foyle, this is Wing Commander Turner. I'm sorry to disturb you Sir but I was just wondering how Andrew was?"

"Better than yesterday but not ready to fly, won't be for several days at least." Foyle's voice was clipped. Worried and exhausted as he was he had missed the genuine note of concern in Turner's voice.

"Of course not. That's not why I'm calling." Turner insisted, "I've scarcely been able to go two feet without one of the chaps asking me how he is so I figured I'd better call and find out before they all showed up at your door."

Turner's voice was full of sincerity and Foyle instantly felt guilty for snapping at him. When he replied his voice was much calmer, "Very kind of them and you. The doctor is with him now but his fever broke last night so he appears to be through the worst."

"That's excellent news Sir, I know the men will be relieved to hear it. Your son is well liked and highly respected within the squadron. Please tell him that we all wish him a speedy recovery."

"Thank you Commander I will." Foyle hesitated and then continued, "If I may be so bold as to ask, how are the rest of the squadron? Andrew is sure to ask. He's been very concerned about them flying without him."

He heard Turner sigh and felt his gut twist with worry, "Somehow I'm not surprised Mr. Foyle, Andrew would fly every op if I let him. Thankfully we've been lucky the last two days, only one downed plane and the pilot was able to get out in time. It was Williams if Andrew asks. He's fine although I don't think he'll be eager to take another dip in the channel anytime soon."

Foyle released the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding, "no, I can imagine not. I will be sure to pass that along, I know Andrew will be pleased to hear it."

Turner nodded, "Please do remind Andrew that he's focus is to be on getting well and nothing else." He hesitated and then continued in a slightly hushed voice, "I shouldn't really be telling you this Mr. Foyle but I've just got word from Fighter Command that we are being pulled out of the line for a few days."

"That is good news."

"Yes, my pilots are in desperate need of the rest. I'm sure I don't need to tell you how much they've been flying lately."

Foyle nodded, "May I pass that on to Andrew? I believe it would ease his anxiety greatly."

"Of course Sir, that was my intension in telling you. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go and inform the men."

"Of course, thank you for calling Commander and do take care."

"And you Sir."

Foyle rang off and headed back toward the stairs, very relieved to have good news to pass on to Andrew.

He found Andrew dozing against his pillows while White stood quietly by the window. The doctor looked up as Foyle entered and smiled at Foyle's inquiring look. "He's doing well Christopher" he said softly, "he has a touch of bronchitis which explains the cough but his lungs are clear. With a few days of rest I'm confident that he will be good as new."

Foyle closed his eyes for a minute as he let himself accept that Andrew really was out of danger. The knowledge left him intensely relieved and suddenly totally exhausted. He opened his eyes to find White smiling knowingly at him. "Get some rest Christopher, he's going to be fine."

Foyle nodded, "I could say the same to you, I seem to recall that we kept the same hours last night and you went to work today."

"Right you are. So unless you have any other concerns I think I'll take my leave."

"What about the fever?"

"Low grade, likely a response to the exhaustion and the tail end of the infection. Check his temperature after supper and again before bed. If it's risen significantly ring me but don't be concerned if he's still running a slight temperature. It's just a sign that his body is fighting off the infection."

Foyle nodded and crossed to the bed where Andrew lay dozing. "Thank you again doctor. Should I expect you in the morning?"

"Not unless you ring me. If I don't hear from you earlier I'll drop by late afternoon to see how he's getting on. Like I said before he's through the worst of it now. Sleep will do him more good then I will at this point."

Foyle nodded again, running a hand wearily over his face. "Right, until tomorrow then."

White nodded and headed for the door. Foyle made to follow him but White shook his head, " No stay, I'll see myself out. Get some rest Christopher, I mean it. I'd rather not have another Foyle ill on my watch if I can help it."

Foyle smiled, "Don't worry doctor, I have every intention of sleeping tonight."

"Good. I'll see you both tomorrow then." And White quietly left the room and shortly after that the house, leaving father and son alone once more.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: There are 5 chapters left after this but I am not sure I will leave the story up so if anyone wants to read the end please let me know.

The first thing Hugh Reid said as he came through the door later that evening was, "Christopher, how is he?"

Foyle smiled tiredly before replying, "Better. Exhausted but better. He's still running a slight temperature but White is confident that it won't develop into pneumonia at this point."

Reid smiled broadly, "That's wonderful news!"

Foyle nodded "yes, now I'll just have to convince him to rest." He ran a hand over his face, his own exhaustion plainly evident.

Reid frowned, "He's not the only one who needs to rest. You look absolutely knackered man."

Foyle considered disputing this but decided he didn't have the energy, "yeah, well, I've just put the kettle on. Come up and join us for tea?"

Reid nodded and silently followed Foyle to the kitchen. He put the bowl of beef tea and the serving of shepherds pie that he had brought for Foyle down on the counter before going back to the hall to hang up his coat.

When he returned to the kitchen Foyle was just pouring water into the teapot, "want me to heat up the beef tea for Andrew?"

Something flickered in Foyle's face as he nodded, "err, yes if you don't mind. Very kind of Elaine to send it over, Andrew said it tastes just like Rosalind's by the way."

He spoke calmly but Reid could hear the slight tremor behind the words, "oh Christopher."

"Leave it Hugh, I'm fine. All that matter's now is Andrew building his strength back up and nothing will do that better then Elaine's cooking."

Reid nodded and politely dropped the subject saying instead, "Milner's been doing a very good job in your absence, if we had 5 more like him my job would be a lot easier."

Foyle nodded, "yes I'm very glad he decided to rejoin the force. Has Sam been keeping out of trouble?"

Reid chuckled at this, "more or less. I still have a hard time seeing her as a vicar's daughter though. I didn't know one person could ask so many questions!"

Foyle gave one of his upside down smiles, "now imagine being in a car with her everyday."

Reid laughed, "I don't know how you do it man. She is awfully perceptive though; some of the constables could stand to learn a good bit from her. Got another tray?"

Andrew had been dozing but looked up with a grin as his father and Reid entered the room each carrying a tray. "Something smells good."

Reid chuckled and smiled at him, "beef tea. Glad to see you're feeling better Andrew."

Andrew smiled back, "glad to be feeling better. Please thank Mrs. Reid for me, it's very good of her to cook for me like this."

"She'll be pleased to hear you're on the mend." Reid replied waiting until Foyle had helped Andrew sit up a little more before passing him the mug of beef tea. "Careful, it's hot."

Andrew nodded, took a careful sip and then sighed with satisfaction, "ahh, that really is miles better then base food."

Reid smiled, "Glad to hear it." He turned to Foyle and continued "I heated up the shepherds pie while I was at it Christopher so you'd better sit down and eat it before it gets cold."

Foyle was surprised that he hadn't noticed Hugh's additional activities in the kitchen, admitting to himself that he really was bloody tired. He did as he was told, taking the plate from Reid and sitting down on the end of Andrew's bed.

"Thank you Hugh and do sit down." He said gesturing to the armchair.

"My pleasure." Reid replied sitting down and reaching for his tea.

It wasn't until both Foyle's had finished their meals that the conversation picked up again. Andrew had just surrendered his mug to his father and was leaning back against his pillows when the drawings on his nightstand caught his eye.

He reached out a hand for them and looked up at Reid with a smile, "please thank Maggie and Grace for me. I like the drawings very much."

Reid smiled back, "they'll be thrilled to hear it. They were desperate to come over and see you but Elaine was able to convince them that it was better to send you some drawings because then you could take them with you."

"Right she is. The other chaps will be jealous that I've got two beautiful girls drawing me pictures." Andrew's voice was fond and Reid was touched to hear him speak of his daughters with such warmth.

"Careful, if they hear that you'll have more drawings then you'll know what to do with."

Andrew's laugh turned into a cough and by the time he stopped he was leaning against his pillows eyes closed.

Foyle had moved to the head of the bed and was running one hand through Andrew's hair while he reached for the thermometer with the other. "Andrew, I need to take your temperature."

Andrew nodded without opening his eyes and allowed his father to slip the thermometer under his tongue. Thankfully Andrew's fever was no higher then it had been earlier and Foyle breathed a sigh of relief. "Andrew" he said softly, "why don't you try and sleep for a bit?"

Andrew nodded and shifted slightly before something occurred to him, "umm Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I need to get up." He blushed slightly as he said it and Foyle quickly realized what he meant.

"Of course, just wait a minute on while I grab your robe."

With Foyle's help Andrew managed to get into his robe and slippers but looked so shaky as he stood beside that bed that Reid couldn't help reaching out a hand to steady him. "Would it be all right if I gave you a hand?" he asked.

Andrew blushed again but nodded. Reid took his other side with a soft smile and he and Foyle helped Andrew make his way slowly to the lavatory.

By the time they had him back in bed Andrew was almost asleep. Foyle was just tucking the blankets around him more closely when Reid spoke. "Christopher why don't you follow Andrew's example and try and get a few hours kip?"

"I will later Hugh, don't worry."

"What I mean is why don't you go to your room and sleep for a bit while I sit with Andrew? You're completely knackered and sleeping in an armchair really isn't the same thing. I know I've done it too."

"Like I said, I'll get some sleep later."

Reid sighed with frustration, "Christopher I know you and you have no intention of sleeping anywhere but that armchair tonight. So go and get some proper sleep now while I sit with Andrew. We'll be fine, won't we Andrew?"

Andrew nodded sleepily, "yes, go sleep Dad, 'm fine."

Reid could see that Foyle was starting to waver, "you'll be just across the landing and you know I'll call you if anything happens."

Foyle hesitated "What about Elaine? She'll be expecting you home."

"She knows where I am, she'll call if she needs me but I already told her I thought I'd be here a while."

Foyle nodded slowly and looked down at Andrew again, still reluctant to leave his son's side.

"Dad?"

"Yes Andrew?"

"Go. 'm fine."

Foyle looked between Andrew and Reid and then conceded the point, "alright, you win."

Reid smiled at this and gathered up the tea things saying as he did, "excellent, I'll just take these down to the kitchen while you get him settled then." He knew that Foyle would not leave the room until Andrew was actually asleep and if he was going to be sitting by Andrew's side for a few hours he could do with another cup of tea.

He took the time to do the washing up so by the time Reid came back to Andrew's room he found Andrew fast asleep and Foyle sitting on the edge of the bed.

He approached the bed quietly and put a hand on Foyle's shoulder, "alright Christopher time to get some kip." He said softly.

Foyle blinked up at him but made no move to rise. Reid sighed, "come on Christopher he's fast asleep, he's fine. Just come and put your head down for a few hours."

As he spoke Reid had guided Foyle up, out of Andrew's room and across the landing to his bedroom. "Hugh I . . ."

"It's just a few hours kip Christopher. You'll feel better for it. I'll be with Andrew the whole time."

Foyle stared at him for another minute before nodding and making his way slowly toward his bed. Reid smiled and closed the door, waiting until he heard the creak of bedsprings before crossing the landing back to Andrew's room.

A quick glance at the bed told him Andrew was still sleeping peacefully so he crossed to the bookcase and selected a book before settling himself in the armchair beside the bed.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Well it didn't seem fair to leave people hanging so here is the next chapter. I hope you like it :)

It was two hours later when Andrew began to stir in his sleep. Reid looked up from his book just as Andrew cried. "Rex! Bail out man!"

Reid placed the book to one side, crossed to the bed and took a deep breath before reaching down to shake Andrew by the shoulder. "Andrew? Andrew wake up son, you're having a nightmare."

But Andrew just twisted away, tears streaking his cheeks, "Rex!"

Reid frowned and shook Andrew more firmly by the shoulder, "Andrew! Come on lad wake up! It's alright, you're safe."

Much to Reid's relief his words must have penetrated the nightmare because Andrew was suddenly blinking up at him uncomprehendingly. "Mr. Reid?"

"Yes Andrew, I'm here. Your Dad's just across the hall, shall I fetch him?"

Andrew hesitated for a moment and then shook his head "needs his sleep." His voice was rough and Reid slipped an arm under his shoulders and helped him sit up before passing him a glass of water.

Andrew took a drink and smiled gratefully, "thanks." He paused and took another sip, "sorry about that."

He kept his face down so he missed the slightly pained look that crossed Reid's face but he did feel the warm hand that squeezed his shoulder, "don't be. Can I get you anything?"

Andrew shook his head, "no I'm alright. What time is it?"

Reid looked at the bedside clock, "ten to eight."

Andrew nodded and took another drink before handing the glass back to Reid. "You should probably get home. You don't have to sit with me Sir, I'll be fine."

"Do you have any idea what you're father would do to me if I just fobbed off? Reid asked incredulously. "Besides the girls know where I am."

Andrew nodded and then opened his mouth to speak before shutting it again, a frown creasing his forehead.

Reid waited a few minutes but Andrew stayed quiet. Reid sighed, '_why must the Foyle men be so stubborn?'_ "What is it Andrew?"

Andrew blinked and then chewed his lip for another minute before asking, "is Dad alright?"

Reid frowned and sat back down in the armchair so he would be on eye level with Andrew. "Yes I'd say so, now that you're on the mend and he's finally getting a few hours of kip. Why do you ask?"

Andrew looked down, fidgeting slightly with his blankets. "It's just that . . ." he began and then broke off and started again, "I think I . . ." he stopped again, looking desperately uncomfortable.

Reid frowned, "it's alright Andrew. You don't have to tell me." He said soothingly.

"No, I want to Sir it's just . . ." he took a deep breath and then asked, "do you think Dad's still in love with Mum?"

Of all the questions Reid had been expecting this was not one of them. He sat there in shook for several minutes trying to figure out how best to answer. "I'm not entirely sure I'm the right person to ask Andrew." He said finally, "but if you don't mind me asking, why do you want to know?"

Andrew shifted again, still careful to avoid looking at Reid, "it's just that every time I mention her he gets this sad look in his eyes almost like he's in pain. I understand missing her, I do too, but Dr. White said he thinks he still loves her. Can you still love someone like that once they've been gone for almost 9 years? I mean I love her but it's not the same thing I know that. I didn't mean to call for her the other night, really I didn't! I hate it when Dad's upset and I don't know how to fix this!"

All his concern and confusion poured out of Andrew in a rush that left him slightly breathless. Reid rose and passed him the glass of water again, thinking over what Andrew had said. There were a lot of parts to it and Reid really wasn't sure he was the best one to answer them. He suddenly wished that Elaine were there. She had such a gentle way with words and would surely know how best to ease the pain in Andrew's heart.

He looked down at the young man he thought of as a nephew and swallowed hard. Where two year before there had been a cheeky boy, full of laughter and exuberance, there now sat a man. A man who had matured in the hell-on-earth that was war, a man who was fighting on the frontlines everyday with courage and commitment.

Yet somewhere, under all the skill and bravado, there was still a scared little boy who desperately missed his mother and worried about his father. Reid felt a lump grow in his throat as he looked at the brave young man before him.

He sat back down, looked at the bed and found Andrew watching him expectantly. He cleared his throat. "Well the first thing to get straight is that it's in no way your fault that you called for your Mum. You had a frightfully high fever Andrew and its only natural that you would want her by your side."

Andrew nodded so Reid pushed on. "As far as your father's feelings toward your mother, you would have to ask him. But if you want my opinion then the answer is yes. I do believe that your Dad is still very much in love with your Mum. However, this does not mean that he wants you to avoid mentioning her."

Andrew looked confused and Reid rubbed a hand across his forehead as he tried to work out how best to explain. "Your Dad wants you to remember your Mum Andrew. He misses her desperately, as I'm sure you do, but that doesn't mean he wants her to be removed from either of your lives. Talking about her keeps her alive in your hearts and I can guarantee you that your Dad wants that. He wouldn't keep her photograph by his chair if he didn't.

"But why is he so upset that I called for her the other night then? And don't say he isn't, I do have eyes you know."

Reid smiled slightly at this and then sighed, "it wasn't _that_ you called for her Andrew but _how_ you called for her."

"What do you mean?"

Reid ran a hand across his face, "look, Andrew, I don't want you to get upset about this but from what I understand you wanted to chase after your mother."

Andrew frowned, "so?" and then his eyes widened in realization, "he thought I was going to go too didn't he? That Mum had come to get me . . ." He broke off looking horrified, "I didn't…I mean...Christ!"

Reid frowned as he watched Andrew become more and more agitated, "Andrew calm down."

"Calm down! I…Dad…"

"Andrew it wasn't your fault. You had a very high fever and your Dad realizes that and he's alright now."

Andrew looked skeptical and Reid spoke firmly, "listen to me Andrew, your father is one of the strongest and most sensible people I know. Hearing you call for your Mum like that did upset him but now that you're on the mend he's put it behind him. The best thing you can do for him now is to follow the doctors orders, rest and get well."

Andrew nodded, "if you say so Sir. Thank you for looking after Dad for me the last few days and while I'm away. I really do appreciate it."

Reid smiled, "not at all. Now how about some tea?"

Andrew smiled back, "tea sounds wonderful."

"Good, I won't be long." And Reid quietly left the room.

By the time they had both had a cup of tea and Reid had told some funny stories from the station Andrew had relaxed enough to feel sleepy again.

As he yawned for the third time in 5 minutes Reid rose and gathered the tea things. "Can I get you anything else?"

Andrew shook his head, "no thanks, 'm fine."

"I'll take these down then, back in a tick."

Andrew nodded sleepily and snuggled down a little further under his blankets. He closed his eyes and tried to relax, suddenly missing the feeling of his father's hand running through his hair. It was something that had soothed him to sleep since he was a little boy and every time he was ill since and he felt rather bereft trying to sleep without it now.

He was still hanging on the cusp of consciousness when Reid crept quietly back into the room. He shifted slightly trying to get comfortable and did his best to push away the visions of dogfights that were trying to crowd his mind.

After 15 minutes had passed in the same manner he gave a frustrated groan that startled Reid, "Andrew, are you alright?" he asked with concern.

"Yes Sir just can't sleep."

"Hmm, would it help if I read to you? It looks like your father has The Hobbit here. I've heard it's good but the girls a little young for it so I haven't had a chance to read it yet."

"It's good but they might not like the dragon." Andrew mumbled.

Reid smiled, "so that's a yes then?"

Andrew hesitated, "you don't mind?"

"Not at all" Reid assured him. He put the book he'd been reading aside and picked up The Hobbit, turning to the place Foyle had marked, and began to read quietly.

Andrew's eyelids began to feel heavier as he let Reid's voice wash over him and within 20 minutes he was snoring softly.

Reid smiled and carefully marked the place in the book before glancing at the clock. 9pm, he'd better go and call Elaine before she started to worry. With a final glance at Andrew he rose and crept quietly from the room.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up, I was writing a term paper all week and it just took all my time. This chapter is a little short but I will try to have another longer one up this weekend :)

Christopher Foyle awoke slowly and blinked at the clock beside the bed, 10:45pm. He frowned and rubbed his eyes trying to determine what had woken him. That's when he realized that he wasn't in his pajamas but instead just in his underthings. He frowned again and then froze as he heard the sound of coughing coming from across the landing. '_Andrew!'_

He threw off the covers and hastily grabbed his robe, before throwing open his door and striding across the landing to Andrew's room.

Andrew was doubled over coughing harshly, while Hugh Reid stood beside the bed running a hand over his back and speaking quietly to him.

Foyle blinked in surprise at finding Reid still there but pushed it aside as he crossed to the bed. Both Reid and Andrew looked up as he approached and Reid straightened saying as he did so. "Ah Christopher I was just asking Andrew if I should wake you."

Foyle nodded distractedly but kept his attention focused on Andrew, whose chest was heaving in an attempt to draw sufficient oxygen into his lungs. He sat on the edge of the bed and began to rub Andrew's back, "It's alright Andrew I'm here…just breath…that's it."

Slowly the fit wound down and Andrew slumped back against his pillows, eyes closed in exhaustion. Foyle brushed the hair back from his forehead and subtle checked his temperature before accepting the water glass from Reid and holding it to Andrew's lips. "Here Andrew have a drink."

Andrew opened his eyes and smiled slightly before opening his mouth and swallowing obediently. Once he'd had enough he shook his head slightly and leaned back against his pillows again.

Foyle stood and reached for the thermometer, slipping it under Andrew's tongue before he had time to protest.

Fortunately Andrew's fever was no higher then earlier and with Foyle's hand running through his hair he was dozing again 10 minutes later.

Foyle looked up at the clock and then up at Reid, "Hugh why didn't you wake me hours ago? It's frightfully late! The Elaine will be worried sick about you."

"No she won't I rang her a few hours ago. She knows where I am."

"Still you should have woken me."

"Nonsense, Andrew was asleep almost the entire time and you needed to rest."

Foyle opened his mouth to protest but Reid held up a hand, "leave it Christopher it's fine. But if you're both all right I should probably get along. Don't particularly fancy getting stopped by every warden who sees me. Not exactly sure why they think the Germans will walk briskly down the streets of Hastings alone if they do invade but there you go."

He smiled slightly and Foyle smiled back. "Thank you Hugh, I really do appreciate everything you've done."

"Happy to help. You feeling better?"

"Much."

"Good. Well I should go and let you and Andrew rest."

Foyle nodded and looked down at Andrew. "Andrew, I'm just going to see Hugh out alright?"

Andrew nodded and licked his lips before mumbling, "night Mr. Reid and thanks for…" he made a vague movement with his hand and Reid nodded.

"Anytime Andrew, now get some rest."

"Yes Sir."

They waited until Andrew's eyes slide closed again before quietly making their way out of the room.

It didn't take Reid long to bundle up and after another admonishment to get some rest and a reminder that he would drop by with supper again tomorrow he stepped out into the night.

Foyle stood in the hall for a few minutes before doing his normal evening round of the house. He stopped in his room to change and collect his eiderdown and slippers before going back to Andrew's room.

He found his son sleeping peacefully and after tucking him in a little more soundly, settled down in the armchair to do the same.


	18. Chapter 18

Consciousness returned to Andrew slowly and he lay unmoving for several minutes as he tried to sort out his jumbled memories of the last few days. He turned his head and saw his father slumped in the armchair by his bed.

He felt guilty for all the worry he had caused his father over the past few days. It hadn't been his intention to fall ill of course and he was glad to have been home when it happened but he did hate seeing that worried expression on his father's face.

He sighed and managed to push himself up a little further in bed. It was more then he could do yesterday but the lingering weakness from his fever still left him frustrated. '_How can I fly a spitfire if I can't sit up in bed by myself? I need to get back to the lads as quickly as possible. Can't let what happened to Phil happen to again.'_

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't realize his father had woken; that sixth sense that parents seem to develop when their children were ill having altered him to the fact that Andrew was awake. "Andrew?"

Andrew looked up with a smile, "morning Dad."

Foyle ran a hand over his face and then smiled back, "how do you feel?"

"A little rough but not too bad." Andrew ran a hand over his face and grinned at his father, "could do with a shave though. Don't think Reverend Matthews would be too impressed if I showed up looking like this tomorrow."

Foyle's lips curved down into a smile pleased that Andrew felt well enough to consider going to church the next day. "Well we could probably arrange that. Church will depend on what Dr. White says though. Won't do anyone any good if you set back your recovery by sitting in a drafty church."

Foyle spoke firmly and Andrew nodded. He knew from experience that arguing with his father about something like this was a waste of time.

Fole offered him a small smile and asked, "Do you need to get up?" Andrew nodded and set about untangling himself from his blankets.

By the time Andrew getting back into bed he was more exhausted then he wanted to admit. Foyle noticed but apart from placing a hand on Andrew's forehead to check his temperature, he made no comment.

"You alright to sit on your own for a bit while I see to breakfast?"

Andrew nodded his eyes already closed "Yes Dad."

"Good. Won't be long."

Fully aware that Andrew was going to fall back to sleep, Foyle took the time to wash, dress and pull up all the blackout curtains before starting on breakfast. Andrew needed sleep and food in almost equal measure but the order that he got them in didn't really matter.

When he did climb the stairs 30 minutes later with eggs, tea and toast for both of them he found Andrew sleeping peacefully. He smiled and quietly set the tray down before sitting down on the edge of the bed.

"Andrew" he called softly, "would you like some breakfast?"

"Hmm, did you say breakfast?" Andrew mumbled sleepily.

"Yes I did, want to wake up and eat some before it gets cold?"

Andrew nodded and blinked up at his father before bringing a hand up to muffle a yawn. "God I can't remember the last time I slept this much."

"Hhmm certainly doesn't seem to be doing you any harm." There was no denying the worry in Foyle's voice and Andrew smiled up at him.

"Dad, I'm fine. It's the other lads you should be worried about, they're still on standby."

"Eerr actually they're not."

"What? How do you know that?" Andrew demanding staring at his father in shock.

Foyle smiled slightly and handed Andrew his tea, "Well Turner called last night, when Dr. White was here." Andrew nodded to show that remembered. "He wanted to know how you were, apparently your squadron mates have been very worried about you." Andrew ducked his head shyly but stayed quiet so Foyle continued. "I took the liberty of asking how they had fared in your absence."

Andrew's entire body stiffened as if preparing to take a punch and Foyle hurried to reassure him. "Everyone's fine, apparently a Flight Lieutenant Williams had to bail out and ended up in the channel but Turner said he was fine. Then he told me, in the strictest confidence of course, that your squadron was being pulled out of the line for a few days and gave me permission to pass that on to you."

Andrew relaxed back against his pillows with a sigh of relief "oh thank god." He ran a hand over his face and looked up at his father, "I've been telling Turner we need the break. We have too many new pilots with too few flying hours between them."

"Theory is all well and good but there's no substitute for being in the air and there isn't much you can do to help them during a dogfight. Not to mention the fact that everyone's exhausted. I hope Turner gives them a day or two off and then gets them in the air again, they need the practice as much as the rest."

Foyle studied Andrew silently as he spoke and in a way he felt like he was seeing his son for the first time. The way he spoke about the men he flew with showed both leadership and compassion and left no doubt that he took his role as squadron leader very seriously. Andrew might only be 22 years old, still a boy in his father's eyes, but the war had turned him into a man, a man that Foyle was very proud of.

He blinked against the moisture in his eyes, "I'm sure Turner will take care of them. In the mean time your breakfast, and mine for that matter, is getting cold."

He spoke seriously but his eyes twinkled and Andrew grinned at him, "can't have that Dad, you're cranky when you don't get your breakfast."

"Cheeky lad and you're one to talk, rattling about the kitchen at all hours looking for food."

"I can't help being hungry! Besides any ability to keep regular hours went out the window when we got put on standby. Eat when you're hungry, fly when you're called and sleep when you can. It's how we live Dad."

Foyle's jaw twitched at this insight into his son's daily life. He forced himself to nod but couldn't think of a reply so he settled for helping Andrew sit up a bit more and handing him his plate.

By the time they had finished breakfast Foyle could tell that Andrew was tired and tactfully suggested they read a bit of The Hobbit to let their breakfast settle before getting Andrew cleaned up.

Andrew agreed and thanks to his father's soothing voice was asleep 30 minutes later.

When he woke up 2 hours later Foyle was sitting in the armchair reading, a half finished cup of tea beside him.

"Dad?" he asked sleepily.

Foyle looked up with a smile, "Andrew."

"How long was I asleep?"

"A few hours, how do you feel?"

"Alright."

"Good. Do you want to get cleaned up now or have some lunch first?" Foyle asked.

Andrew considered this for a minute, "Umm might as well get cleaned up now I suppose."

Foyle nodded and rose, placing his book to one side, "I'll go start the bath then."

Andrew nodded as he sleepily pushed himself into a sitting position.

By the time Andrew was clean and shaven he was absolutely knackered. If the extra activity hadn't been enough about halfway through he had started to cough again forcing him to allow his father to shave him or risk cutting his own throat.

While he had made it to the lavatory with minimal help he leaned heavily against his father on the way back to his room.

Foyle got him situated in bed and quietly checked for any sign of fever. Pleased to find his son's brow cool he brushed the damp hair back from Andrew's forehead. "Just rest Andrew."

Andrew nodded, "thanks Dad."

Foyle smiled softly as he ran his fingers through Andrew's damp curls, "Anytime son." He murmured, noting how Andrew's eyelids had begun to droop. "Shh…hush now…" 10 minutes later Andrew was fast asleep.

The rest of the day passed in much the same fashion, Andrew slept a lot and every time he woke his father was there by his bed. It had been years since they had spent so much uninterrupted time together and Andrew wished he felt better so he could appreciate it more. As it was he took comfort in his father's presence and allowed himself to relax more then he had in months, secure in the knowledge that Dad would see to everything.

When Dr. White came by later that afternoon he was pleased with Andrew's progress and saw no reason why he couldn't go to church the next day. Assuming of course that he still felt up to it, didn't have a fever and bundled up properly.

Andrew agreed to all the conditions knowing that it was pointless not to. Even if his father let him out of the house Dr. White attended the same church and would not hesitate to send him back home in front of the whole congregation if he deemed it necessary.

Andrew's obvious improvement and Dr. White's assurance's that he really was on the mend allowed Foyle to begin to relax and when Reid stopped by with supper later that evening he was delighted to find both men looking relaxed and happy.

"I say Christopher you do look better." Reid said as he came through the door, "I take it Andrew's doing well then?"

Foyle nodded, "yes quite well, still exhausted of course but Dr. White is pleased with his progress."

"Excellent. And how are you?"

Foyle smiled at this, "I'm fine Hugh, truly. Now that Andrew's on the mend I'm quite enjoying having him home."

Reid smiled understandingly. He knew how much Foyle missed his son although he rarely mentioned it. "I'm sure. I miss the girls when they go away for the weekend, I'm positively dreading them growing up."

He made a face at the thought and Foyle nodded, "it isn't all bad you know Hugh. Just think of that extra time you and Elaine will have to yourselves. Not to mention you've got years until you have to worry about it."

"I know but they are growing up so fast. It feels like yesterday that Grace took her first step and the other day she made it across the monkey bars all by herself."

There was such a mixture of pride and melancholy in Reid's voice that Foyle couldn't help but smile. "You make it sound as if she is minutes away from moving away or getting married."

"Don't even joke about that!" Reid protested although he was secretly pleased that Foyle was relaxed enough to tease him.

Foyle just smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, "poor Elaine, you are going to be in a state when they start dating. Assuming we win the war, you have an open invitation to come over and avail yourself of my Glenlivet when the fateful day arrives. Now stop brooding and come help me put a brew on."

As he had the night before Reid stayed while the Foyle's ate their supper, keeping the conversation light and entertaining with tales from the station and the funny things his daughters had said.

"Will we see you at church tomorrow?" He asked as he was preparing to take his leave.

"Yes."

"Maybe."

Andrew and Foyle had spoken at the same time and Reid laughed, "which is it then?"

"Maybe" Foyle said firmly, "if Andrew feels up to it we should be there, but no promises."

Reid nodded, "Right, well either way I'll see you tomorrow evening. Good night you two."

"Good night Sir and please thank Mrs. Reid for me, the soup was delicious."

Reid smiled, "I will."

Foyle walked Reid to the door and then went to the kitchen to do the washing up and put the kettle on before making his way back upstairs.


	19. Chapter 19

Foyle was careful to set an alarm before he went to sleep that night so they would have plenty of time to get ready for church if Andrew still wanted to go.

The morning dawned overcast and Foyle hoped that it wouldn't rain, another soaking was the last thing Andrew needed. For a minute he considered just putting his foot down and saying that they weren't going but then he remembered Andrew's words from the night before.

"_It will be good to go to church again, it's been weeks since I've been able to."_

"_Well I'm sure God understands."_

_Andrew gave a half smile, "yeah but it will be good to finally get to light those candles. They deserve that Dad, just as much as anyone else, yet we rarely get the chance to do that for them and I hate it."_

_Foyle felt a lump develop in his throat at the pain in his son's voice and was only able to nod mutely. _

It wouldn't be fair to deny Andrew the closure that he so obviously needed just because it _might_ rain. Anyway he could always ask Hugh to run them home in his car if necessary.

Mind made up Foyle dressed quickly and went back to Andrew's room to see if he was awake yet. He wasn't and after checking again to make sure he didn't have a temperature Foyle decided to let him sleep until breakfast was ready.

I didn't take Foyle long to make a pot of tea and cook up some eggs and toast so he was soon climbing the stairs again, tray in hand. He found Andrew leaning against his pillows sleepily rubbing at his eyes.

Sitting in bed with his hair tousled, rubbing sleep out of his eyes he looked more like the little boy he had been then the squadron leader that he was and Foyle found himself smiling fondly at his son.

"Good morning Andrew."

"Morning Dad."

"How do you feel this morning?"

Andrew yawned before replying, "sleepy but I reckon a good cup of tea will take care of that. We're still going to church aren't we?" His eyes were hopeful and Foyle found himself nodding.

"Yes, if the weather holds and you still feel up to it once you've had your breakfast. I understand that you're eager to go Andrew but please remember that if you push yourself too hard you'll only get ill again."

Andrew nodded, "I know Dad but I really am feeling better."

"Pleased to hear it. Here sit up a bit more, that's it." Foyle handed Andrew his tea and put the tray on his lap before taking his own plate and sitting down in the armchair.

They were soon finished and Foyle took their dishes down, leaving Andrew to try and dress by himself.

Foyle did the washing up quickly, listening attentively the whole time but he heard nothing to indicate that Andrew needed his help. And when he knocked on his bedroom door 15 minutes later he found Andrew busy with his tie.

"Ready to go?"

"Almost."

"You still feel up to this?"

Andrew sighed with frustration, "Yes Dad."

Foyle held up a hand "alright, can't blame me for asking. Meet you downstairs then."

Andrew smiled, "sorry Dad, I'll be down soon."

They left the house 10 minutes later, Andrew in his flying jacket and scarf and carrying the umbrella is father had insisted on bringing. It wasn't just the rain Foyle was thinking about. He suspected that Andrew would be more warn out by this outing then he realized but would be reluctant to lean on his father for support while they were in public. He could however use the umbrella as a walking stick without drawing any attention to himself, so even if it didn't rain Foyle was confident it would fulfill a useful purpose.

The service was no longer then usual and Andrew seemed to enjoy it. Once it was over Foyle made small talk with his neighbours to give Andrew some privacy while he lit candles for his friends. He couldn't help keeping an eye on him though and when he saw Andrew's hand shake as he reached for a fifth candle he politely excused himself and went to join him.

"Andrew?" He asked quietly, not wanting to startle his son.

"Dad." Andrew's voice was thick and he rubbed at his eyes hastily before looking up at his father.

Foyle's face creased with concern and he put a gentle hand on Andrew's arm, "need a hand?"

Andrew shook his head, "no, it's just" he paused and lowered his voice slightly, "Aaron was Jewish Dad, I don't know if it's right to light a candle here or not but it also feels wrong not to light one for him."

He looked questioningly at his father and Foyle chewed his lip for a minute before responding. "You might not have shared his faith Andrew but I can see nothing wrong with lighting a candle for him. He was your friend and you are honoring his memory, I don't see how God that could object to that."

Andrew nodded and lit the fifth candle murmuring the familiar words of prayer before offer his father a rather watery smile. "Shall we?"

Foyle nodded and turned to walk slowly out of the church beside his son. He could tell that Andrew was tired and wanted to get him back home and into bed.

They had just stopped to talk to Reverend Matthews when two little voices broke through the murmur of quiet conversation. "Andrew!"

All three men turned and saw the young Reid girls racing toward them. Andrew just had time to brace himself before the little girls wrapped themselves around his legs.

"Are you better now? Did you shoot down all the bad planes? I missed you!" The questions overlapped each other and Andrew laughed as he carefully pried the girls off his legs and knelt down so he was on eye level with them.

"Yes, I'm feeling much better now, thank you for the drawings."

"Are all the bad planes shot down now? Can you stay home again?" Grace asked.

Andrew's smile faltered briefly, "Not just yet Gracie."

"Oh, do you have to go away again then?"

"Yes in a few days."

Grace's face fell and she wrapped her arms around Andrew's neck, "I don't want you to go Andrew, I missed you!"

"I've missed you too Gracie." Andrew said wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her soft curls. "You've gotten so big since I saw you last, I bet you are excellent at riding your new bicycle now."

The distraction worked and Grace released Andrew's neck nodding eagerly, "I can ride all the way to school without falling off! Just like Maggie."

Andrew smiled, "well I say, you're practically a lady."

Grace giggled delightedly and Andrew smiled at her before turning his attention to Maggie. "You look very pretty today Maggie."

The little girl smiled happily, "thank you Andrew. Are you truly better now? Mum said you were very sick so we couldn't come over to visit."

"Yes I'm truly better now and I'm a very lucky man because I've got your Mum cooking for me and two beautiful girls drawing me pictures."

Maggie smiled and wrapped her arms around Andrew's neck, "I'm so glad you're well again Andrew. I wish all the bad planes would go away so you could stay home forever."

"I wish that too Maggie" Andrew whispered as he held her close for a minute and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

Before the girls could say anymore they heard Hugh's voice calling out, "ah here they are Elaine, it's alright they're with Christopher and Andrew."

Andrew looked at the girls, "did you run off without telling your parents where you were going?"

They nodded slowly. "We wanted to see you!" Grace explained.

Andrew smiled at her, "well I wanted to see you too but you shouldn't run off like that."

Before they could respond Mr. and Mrs. Reid arrived. "Girls what on earth were you thinking?" Mrs. Reid asked, worry making her voice a little sharper than normal.

"I'm afraid I'm the cause of that Mrs. Reid" Andrew said as he smiled up at her, "apparently the girls couldn't wait to say hello."

"Yes and we knew it was Andrew because we could see his blue hat and he was standing with Mr. Foyle." Maggie added.

Elaine Reid looked between her daughters and Andrew and shook her head. "Well don't go running off like that again and Andrew for goodness sake get off that cold ground. Just over a fever and kneeling on cold stone, your jacket's undone too."

Andrew rose obediently and did up his jacket while Mrs. Reid fussed with his scarf. "I'm alright Mrs. Reid, really. Thank you for all the wonderful soup, it's very kind of you."

"You look like you could do with it. What are they feeding out at that base? It looks like you've lost weight."

"They feed us pretty well, but nothing holds a candle to your cooking." Andrew flashed a brilliant smile and Mrs. Reid laughed.

"Oh Andrew you always where a charmer. Come along now girls we need to get home for tea."

"But Mum we want to see Andrew!" Grace protested.

"Andrew and Mr. Foyle need to be going home to have their own tea." Mrs. Reid said firmly.

"But…"

Andrew could never stand to see the little girls upset. "Your Mum's right we all need to have our tea now but if the weather is nice tomorrow we can go for a walk. How does that sound?"

The girls nodded eagerly but Mrs. Reid looked at him sharply, "are you sure you're up to that Andrew?"

Andrew nodded, "Yes Mrs. Reid, besides Dad won't let me out of the house if he thinks I'm not."

"Glad to hear it, now come along girls say goodbye to Andrew and Mr. Foyle."

The girls nodded and quickly hugged Andrew around the knees again before walking away calling, "Goodbye Andrew, goodbye Mr. Foyle!"

Andrew waved back, "goodbye Maggie, goodbye Grace." He turned back to Reverend Matthews, "sorry about that Sir."

The reverend smiled pleasantly, "don't be, it does the heart good to see such happiness, especially these days."

Andrew nodded. Foyle could see that Andrew really was knackered now and quickly broke in, "I think we should follow the Reid's example and head home for tea. If you'll excuse us Reverend?"

Reverend Matthew's nodded and reached out to shake Andrew's hand, "Of course. Do take care son, we shall keep you and your squadron in our prayers."

"Thank you sir." Andrew replied, shaking his hand firmly.

He nodded to Foyle, "Until next week Mr. Foyle."

"Until next week Sir." Foyle replied. The two men shook hands and then the Foyles slowly left the churchyard.

Andrew was exhausted and leaned heavily on the umbrella as they walked the few blocks home, his father hovering anxiously at his elbow. He didn't even object when his father suggested he go upstairs and rest while Foyle made tea and when Foyle entered his room 15 minutes later he found Andrew fast asleep.

He had taken off his shoes, uniform jacket and tie but hadn't bothered to get under the covers. Foyle shook his head and removed a blanket from the cupboard, carefully covering his sleeping son and brushing a hand against his forehead to check for a fever before settling in the armchair beside the bed with his tea.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: Well this is the end of the story. A MASSIVE thank you to OxfordKivrin for all the encouragement, I really appreciate it! Thanks to everyone who has read the story, I hope you have enjoyed it and I would love to know what you think of it overall. TT-5

* * *

><p>The next few days passed quietly, Andrew's cough became less frequent and he started to get restless; a clear sign that he was feeling better.<p>

Foyle watched his progress with decidedly mixed feels. He was very relieved that Andrew was recovering but also painfully aware that as soon as he was well again he would be back with his squadron. Back on the front lines and the heart stopping worry that had dogged him since Andrew's detachment began would return.

He found himself uttering Maggie Reid's wish that "all the bad planes would go away so Andrew could stay home forever." It was a childish wish but an earnest one and Foyle smiled as he remembered how delighted the Reid girls had been to see Andrew. The smile widened slightly when he acknowledged that Andrew seemed equally eager to see them.

He and Rosalind had hoped to have other children but it was not to be so they had contented themselves with the beautiful son that they did have. Andrew had also expressed a wish for siblings but after one such comment caused Rose to burst into tears when Andrew was 7 he had never mentioned it again. Instead throwing himself into the role of surrogate big brother for Maggie and Grace.

Foyle would never forget the awed expression on Andrew's face when he had held Maggie for the first time. He was 13 at the time and usually came home covered in mud from rugby, football or playing in a creek. But when Rose had sat him down on the settee at the Reid's that Sunday and carefully placed the baby in his arms he had gone completely still.

He sat there staring at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. "She's perfect." He had murmured in an awed whisper that made all the adults in the room smile.

Just as he said it Maggie had woken and started to fuss but before Rosalind or Elaine could take her Andrew had begun to rock her gently. "Shh…it's all right…I've got you and I'm never going to let anything happen to you."

Elaine and Rosalind had tears in their eyes but Andrew had eyes only for Maggie who had stopped crying and reached out a tiny hand toward him. He offered her his finger and she grasped it tightly making him smile. "Pleased to meet you Miss Margaret Elizabeth Reid. I say that is a big name for such a little thing! I'll just call you Maggie. I'm Andrew by the way, Andrew Foyle. We are going to have such fun when you're big enough. I'll teach you to ride a bike and climb trees and…"

So as the adult had sat down to tea Andrew had lulled Maggie to sleep with a list of all the things they would do together once she got big enough.

Looking back on it now Foyle realized that Andrew had made good on his promises. He had been there when Maggie first learned to ride her bicycle as he had for Grace. He had also taught both girls to climb trees. That activity that had gotten all three of them into a bit of trouble with Elaine who didn't think tree climbing was an appropriate activity for little girls.

Even when he was driving his father mad as he tested the bounds of independence in the years before he left for Oxford Andrew had always made time for the Reid girls. Praising their drawings, carrying them on his shoulders and even once, attending a tea party in a suit and tie.

But as good as Andrew had been to the Reid girls they had been just as good for him. Their childish belief in him had pushed him to work hard to be the kind of man they saw him as. Even now they gave him a reason to keep fighting and for both of these things Foyle was grateful.

It was no surprise that by the time Andrew was well enough to return to his squadron he had several new drawings carefully folded and tucked into the pocket of his uniform jacket.

Unbeknownst to his father the drawings of Andrew and his spitfire and the fairy princess joined the worn photograph of Rosalind and Foyle that Andrew kept in the pocket over his heart. Foyle had given the photograph to him the day he left for Oxford and Andrew had kept it with him ever since, first in his wallet and now in the pocket of his tunic.

Andrew had lost track of the number of times he had traced his parents' faces with a gentle finger before drifting off to sleep. It wasn't much but the love on his parents' faces helped to soothe the ache in his heart and he would close his eyes and whisper, "I love you Mum, love you Dad" and imagine them saying it back as they had all those nights so long ago when he was a little boy without a care in the world.

You had to have something to cling to in war, something to help you through the dark days. For Andrew it was two little girls' drawings and a photograph that reminded him of his parents unwavering love, for him and for each other. Even in his blackest moods the drawings would bring a smile to his lips and when the scramble siren screamed he would carefully fold them up again, kiss the picture of his parents and bravely lead his squadron into combat.

Back in Hastings Foyle started and end his day with thoughts of his son and prayers for his safety. During the day, work and Sam's cheerful chatter helped to keep the worry at bay, although it never really left. Always lurking in the corner of his mind was the fear that the telephone would ring and it would be Commander Turner telling him that Andrew was gone.

But like so many other parents Foyle learned to live with this fear, found a way to carry on. The pictures of Andrew on his desk and by his chair at home helped, as did the infrequent letters. But every night Christopher Foyle would kneel by his bed and whisper, "please God, let this bloody war end soon and please, please bring Andrew safely back to me when it does."

In his darkest moods Foyle would remember how little Grace Reid had slipped a hand into his one Sunday. "You look sad," She told him, "Are you feeling sad because Andrew has to be away shooting down all the bad planes?"

Foyle had nodded, unsure of what to say, not wanting to upset the little girl.

"Sometimes I feel sad because of that too but then I remember what he told me before he went away."

"And what was that?" Foyle asked, genuinely curious.

"He said that whenever I missed him all I had to do was put my hand over my heart and think of him because he would always be there. And then he said if that didn't work I should get someone to give me a hug because hugs always help. Would you like a hug Mr. Foyle?"

Foyle's eyes had grown misty at her words. He was incredibly proud of Andrew for finding such a beautiful way to comfort a little girl that he knew he might never see again.

He looked down at Grace's earnest little face and nodded, bending down and letting her wrap her arms around his neck. He picked her up and held her close for a minute, allowing himself to remember holding Andrew this way. When she released him he carefully put her back down.

"Do you feel better now? She asked looking up at him seriously.

Foyle nodded, "yes I do, thank you Grace."

She smiled, "You're welcome, I feel better too. Andrew's right, hugs make everything better. Oh look they're playing jump rope! I'll see you later Mr. Foyle." And she had run off to join the other little girls. Completely unaware of how much of a comfort she had been.

And so they carried on, Andrew at his airbase and Foyle in Hastings. Relying on their courage, British stubbornness, love for each other and the open love of two little girls who would never know how much they had helped the Foyle men through some of the hardest years of their lives.

The End


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